Sanctuary
by Comedicdrama
Summary: As a result of a personal crisis, and the pressures of college, Castiel becomes housebound. It isn't until Dean and his brother move in next door that Castiel slowly begins to re-enter the world. - AH/AU, realistic depictions of mental health issues: Agoraphobia, Anxiety Disorders.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This was my 2012 Big Bang. It was several months in the making. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated.**

* * *

The sounds of loud crashes and two men yelling had somehow worked their way through his wall, permeated his headboard, and bombarded his ears. His eyes shot open, red from exhaustion. It was impossible for him to sleep now. Castiel groaned loudly, cursing the world; he hadn't even had his coffee yet. He rolled out of his bed with a sigh, wiping the sleep from his eyes, still trying to determine if he was actually awake or if this was some hellish dream. His feet dragged on the carpet as he shuffled groggily out of his bedroom towards the nearest window. He knew it wasn't trash day, nor was he expecting a delivery, so he couldn't help but wonder who dared to wake him up.

Moving the dusty blue and cream checkered curtains aside, he glared out his tiny kitchen window. His eyes locked on to the source of the noise: a large commercial moving truck - or a mini semi, he wasn't exactly sure at this point - that stood in the driveway next door. Various sized cardboard boxes were scattered haphazardly about at the bottom of the loading ramp, secured with duct tape and covered in scribbles of permanent marker - not a very professional packing job.

The little white house next door had stood empty for years - for as long as he could remember - and he liked it that way. An empty house meant he could take out the trash without running into anyone and being forced to make small talk. It meant he could get the mail without that uneasy feeling like people were watching him. He frowned, a deep ache radiating from his stomach. That was all over now. Things have changed, and not for the better.

He swallowed hard, watching like a hawk, gleaning any information he could manage. Two men exited the house, at each other's throats, pointing wildly between the truck and the house, their postures rigid with tension. He couldn't make out any of the words and he suddenly felt glad for that. The boys looked young if their baggy jeans and t-shirts were any indication. One was much taller than the other, complete with a mop of hair. The shorter one appeared to be the older of the two, sporting an impressive 5 o'clock shadow. The man took his post at the back of the truck, pointing to boxes and tapping his foot rapidly as the younger one lifted them up.

The younger one made his way out of the truck and down the ramp, his arms filled with boxes, and headed towards their house with a nasty scowl on his face. The boy didn't seem too happy to be working with the other one, and Castiel worried now what his new neighbors would be like. Were these boys the new neighbors? There was no way they worked for a moving company, not with their attitudes. The older man remained in the back of the truck, standing around. The taller one had to do all the grunt work, while _he_ got to relax and soak in the sun. Castiel smirked, amused by the man's gall. He would never dare to intentionally piss off a man that big...

The man suddenly looked at him, somehow homing in on the kitchen window. Castiel froze. He knew he had been spotted, but he didn't have many options. The rush of adrenaline said to run, the clenching in his stomach said to hide, but his curiosity said to keep watching. The guy appeared to be about his age, couldn't have been older than 30... though it seemed obvious that he tried to look younger with his short, styled-yet-messy hairdo. The man smiled at him and he felt his heart skip a beat... His brain went into overdrive, processing every possible implication of that smile, but his body overrode the endless loop, forcing his hand to let go of the curtain, cutting short their staring contest. Out of sight, out of mind. His eyes scanned the kitchen, begging for something to distract him. He hoped the ruckus would die down a little, especially if those boys knew someone was home next door, but, for some reason, he didn't think that would matter.

Searching through his oak cupboards, he pulled out a tin of ground coffee. The sound of the water filling the reservoir on his coffee maker was almost hypnotic, which didn't help his already drained mood. He groaned as he flipped the switch, bringing the machine to life. The smell of the freshly brewing coffee managed to perk his senses. Once it percolated, he fetched a mug from the nearest cupboard and poured himself a cup. He liked his coffee black, especially this early in the morning.

He chewed on his lip, warring with his practical-self over whether he should look outside again. His eyes flicked between the window and his coffee. The curtain was within arm's reach... and the temptation was too strong. He quickly grabbed the curtain, pulling it open just enough to reevaluate the situation. His eyes immediately locked with the older man's once again. Castiel let the curtain drop back into place, a flush of red creeping into his face. He grabbed his cup of coffee and hurried to his living room, needing to get out of the kitchen and to get away from the luring temptation. There was a book he had been wanting to finish, and it was due back to the library soon, so since he was awake now and freshly caffeinated, he figured he should attempt to complete it before Jess arrived.

He nestled into the corner of the brown leather couch furthest from the kitchen, trading his mug for the book resting on the end table.

"_A frantic knock echoed through the halls of the stately house. It was the front door. Arousing her from her tasks in the kitchen, the woman cautiously approached the door. It was late, and she was home alone. 'Who is it?'_

"_'Excuse me, ma'am,' a voice pleaded from behind the door, 'I don't want to bother you, but I'm hurt and needing some help.'_

"_The woman looked through the peephole, surveying the woman on the other side. 'What happened to you?'_

"_'I'm hurt and needing some help,' she stumbled on her words, lacking all emotion and expression, 'Open the door.'_

"_Growing suspicious, the woman refused to open the door. 'Well, you said that,' she said, putting on the most caring voice possible. 'Can you tell me what happened? How did you get hurt?'_

"_The woman on the other side of the door began to grow impatient. 'Can't you see the blood on my face? He's out here!' The woman began pounding on the door violently, 'Let me in. What kind of woman are you? He's coming. He's gonna stab me!'_

"_'I'm... I'm gonna get help. I'm calling 9-1-1,' but it was too late... The moment she went for her phone, the door flew open... And before she could even scream-"_

A knock rattled the door and Cas jumped, managing to drop his book in the process. He had been so immersed in his story, trying to drown out all the polluting noise from next door. He sighed, leaning over to pick the book back up and tossing it on his coffee table. He took a moment to calm himself before getting up to see who it was.

He was expecting Jess, but it didn't stop the uneasy feeling in his stomach each time he heard someone knock at this door. He unlocked the door and opened it just a crack before she nearly burst through the door, barging her way in, rushing towards the nearest counter. Her arms were weighed down with brown paper bags; her purse slung haphazardly on her shoulder.

With a grunt and a huff, she heaved the bags onto the open surface. "Man, it took you long enough. That stuff gets heavy."

Castiel quickly closed the door, refastening the chain. He turned towards her, the guilt weighing down his smile. "Sorry, Jess. Wanted to make sure it was you."

She rolled her eyes. "Who else would it be?" She grinned, "It's not like you ever have company anymore."

He frowned. "I know, I know... But still." He hated being reminded, but he had his reasons for it.

She started to unpack the bags that she brought in, putting the canned food in the top cupboards, the boxed goods in the bottom cupboards, the bread in the bread box, the cold items in the refrigerator... He marveled at how she had his entire kitchen layout memorized. The marvel was soon replaced with guilt; she shouldn't have it memorized. She shouldn't be the one out shopping - he was perfectly capable of doing it on his own. But she seemed to enjoy it, if the smile on her face was any indication, so he wasn't going to get in her way. Anything to see that smile on her face.

She crumpled up some of the empty paper bags, the sound catching his attention. "So what's with that truck outside?" She peeked up at him, eyebrow arched in question.

The question hit him hard. He had almost forgotten about the nuisances next door. His lips fell into a frown, his eyes flicking towards the kitchen window behind Jess, the window that now acted as a portal into misery. "Looks like I have new neighbors," he said dryly.

"Wow, really?" She crumpled another bag. "Huh..." she mused, "how long's that house been empty, anyway?"

He shrugged, trying to keep his eyes on Jess and not the window, forcing his mind not to wander back to the memories of earlier that day. "It was empty before I moved back." He paused, lightly, "...you know, when Dad was still here."

Her smile faltered. He didn't intend to make her feel guilty. He never bothered to introduce her to his father, only sharing stories about her during their monthly Father-Son phone call. He did it to protect her, mostly. But he knew she still felt guilty whenever he brought his father up in conversation. He could tell by the way her gaze would drop to the floor and the way her smile became too heavy to hold. "Glad to see it's finally being put to use." She compressed the empty bags, forming them into a pile. "Let me get the rest of your stuff. I'll be back in a sec."

He nodded, still feeling guilty. "Yeah, alright."

She started for the door, passing him, but paused. She turned back towards the kitchen, "Actually..." she began to grin, "I have a surprise for you."

A sudden twinge of pain shot through his stomach. "A surprise?"

"I know it wasn't on your list," she said as she walked back towards the kitchen, "but..." She started digging through her purse, "I had to get it..."

He walked towards the counter, curious but still combating the gremlins in his stomach. "What is it?"

She pulled an item out of her purse, dramatically revealing it like a model out of _The Price is Right_. "Ta-da!" Grinning, she wiggled her eyebrows. "Popcorn!"

"Huh..." He stared at the item, mouth partially agape, not sure what to make of it. He hadn't had popcorn in years, nor had it ever been on his grocery list... He didn't like surprises, especially if gifts were involved. He never knew how to respond. "Cool, I guess."

The surprises didn't end there, though. "It's for..." She continued rummaging through her bag before finally pulling out another item. "This! We're gonna have a movie night." She laid the DVD case on the counter in front of him. "Just the two of us. Just like old times."

He felt his stomach unclench, easing the tension in his shoulders he wasn't aware he was carrying. "Oh... Yeah. That sounds nice." He feigned a smile. It wasn't that he didn't want to watch movies with Jess, it was more the fact that it was unexpected and unannounced. He had no time to prepare.

"Good. I'll be back." She opened the door as he followed behind her. He froze at the threshold of the door, though it might as well have been the Grand Canyon. Jess tried grabbing the rest of the bags from her trunk, shuffling the items around in her arms, all while he stood in the doorway and watched. He wanted to go out and help her, he really did - it was the gentlemanly thing to do, after all - but his legs wouldn't allow him. Not in broad daylight. Not with new lingering neighbors.

The shorter neighbor boy must have seen Jess struggling, though, because he approached her and started talking to her. She started giggling... He frowned. He could always tell when she was flirting because she had a tendency to bite her bottom lip and giggle a lot. It was one of the many little things he learned about her in their brief relationship; like how she was ticklish on her right knee only, how she always put others before herself, and how she loved unconditionally and with all her heart.

She glanced towards him in the doorway, which lead the neighbor boy to look over towards him as well. A million thoughts came flooding into his mind, his body gave mixed signals; to run or cry, but he could only respond by shutting the door as quickly as possible. He didn't know why his body did it. Maybe he just wasn't feeling social, especially towards the rowdy neighbor boys. Maybe it's because he didn't have a chance to shower or groom himself after being rudely awoken. Or maybe it was because he didn't want them inside his house. No one could blame him for that.

He left the door and went back into his kitchen, making sure everything was put away and the counters were ready for the next load. He felt kind of useless when Jess did all the work like that. It left him with nothing to do but watch and feel guilt. And this time was no exception. He leaned against the counter and waited for her to come back inside with the rest of the bags.

He glanced down and remembered the movie she brought. He picked it up, curious as to what she was trying to get him to watch. _Watchmen_. He turned the case over and read the blurb. "In an alternate 1985 where former superheroes exist, the murder of a colleague sends active vigilante Rorschach into his own sprawling investigation, uncovering something that could completely change the course of history as we know it."

A murder mystery with superheroes. That was something he could enjoy. After all, Batman was the world's greatest detective, and Batman was his idol. Jess clearly knew him well, and it showed. It must have been what drew them together in the first place.

There were footsteps climbing onto the porch, and then Jess' giggle. She let herself back in, closed the door behind her, and hurried over to the counter, plopping down the next load.

She sighed. "Sorry 'bout that. They offered to help, but judging from the look you have me, I figured it probably wasn't the best idea."

He gave an apologetic smile and shrugged. "I'd feel weird having strangers in my house."

She rolled her eyes. "They aren't strangers, though, Cas. They're your new neighbors." She took a few items out of the bags, placing them in their designated spots. "You should go out there and meet them. They're really nice."

All expression drained from his face. "No... No. I'm good." His brain scurried for an excuse. "As long as they stay quiet, we'll be the perfect neighbors."

"Oh, come on, Cas." She walked around the counter and approached him, "They really wanted to meet you."

A rush of adrenaline pumped into his system, begging his legs to carry him away, but he couldn't just run. It would be too hard to explain to Jess. He had to get her to drop the subject, though. "No, Jess."

"Just a quick hello." She grabbed him by the hand, tugging softly. "Tell them your name and then you're golden."

She began dragging him towards the door. He immediately began to feel uneasy. She pulled harder, and he began resisting, the adrenaline rushing through his system, prepping his body to run. He hoped she would take the hint that he wasn't joking around.

He could feel his throat begin to tighten making it impossible to swallow, and even harder to breathe. "Jess, don't," he pleaded.

"You'll be fine. I gotcha," she replied, oblivious to his current state.

She got him to the door and grabbed the handle, slowly pulling it open, and that pushed Cas over the edge. He yanked his hand out of her grasp as hard as he could and shoved the door closed.

She stared at him, eyes wide.

He couldn't look her in the eyes. Instead, he focused on the floor, his breathing shallow, his throat still tight. "No, Jess. I. Can't!"

She furrowed her brow, her anger increasing, obviously still oblivious to his reactions. "It wouldn't kill you to be nice!"

"You don't get it, Jess! I can't do it!" He felt his throat tightening more, air becoming harder and harder to take in. He was beginning to feel dizzy.

She raised her voice louder, reaching a yell. "I'm just trying to get you to socialize!"

"It's none of your damned business, Jess!" he yelled back.

Her face immediately softened to that of pity, her voice fell to just above a whisper. "God, what is _wrong_ with you?"

She didn't understand. He couldn't explain it to her, not right now. "I... I can't do this..." he whispered to no one in particular.

"You don't need to be such an _asshole_."

He needed to get away. He quickly headed for his bedroom, her last words to him just a blur. He slammed his door shut behind him. He needed air, he couldn't breathe. His heart was beating in this throat... He needed to calm down... He paced his floor, trying his hardest to take in long, deep, calming breaths. It wasn't helping. The room was spinning. He was going to puke. He needed to lay down.

He climbed into his bed and rolled onto his back. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping the room would stop. It didn't help. He opened his eyes and started to count the cracks in his ceiling while humming. It usually helped him sleep at night, so it might possibly help calm him down.

Moments slipped by, and, deeply focused on the ceiling cracks, Cas' breathing slowly evened out. He heard the front door slam, but he didn't really care what was happening, consequences be damned. He just knew he was safe inside his bedroom sanctuary. He didn't want to think anymore. He wanted to sleep and forget that any of the day's events ever happened. He probably made a fool of himself in front of the new neighbors and he probably ruined his friendship with Jess, perhaps his only remaining friend in the world... But he could deal with all that later. The problems were gone for the time being, and he was at peace wrapped in his blanket.

* * *

The house wasn't anything fancy - a typical white, two-story townhouse - but it did have a massive garage, which Dean found perfect for his job. Sure, the pink trim on the garage was a little tacky, but it was nothing he couldn't fix. And the fact that the house was only a few blocks away from Sam's college? He was sold.

It wasn't the Winchester boys' first time moving, but that didn't mean he hated it any less. Pack the box, move the box, _un_pack the box, throw the box away... Lather, rinse, repeat. Hell, they didn't even _own_ that much, yet it _still_ took forever. But he would grin and bear it, because it was all for Sammy.

When Sam had run up to Dean, excitedly waving his college acceptance letter in his face, Dean wasn't shocked or surprised in the least bit - he was proud. His baby brother had gotten a hell of a lot further than he ever had, so he was going to make sure Sam would get the most out of this opportunity. He would do everything in his power to make sure Sammy succeeded, even if that meant packing up and moving halfway across the United States.

One of the first things Dean noticed when driving to the house for the first time was the bar just down the street. It would give him the perfect chance to socialize with the locals, scope out some potential ass, and, of course, get wasted. College towns weren't _all_ bad.

The sound of metal crashing to the ground with a loud thud immediately caught his attention. He spun towards the source. Sam was bending over to pick up a cardboard box. "Dude!"

Sam looked up at him, eyes wide. "I'm sorry. I didn't think it would be that heavy."

He indicated the equipment now strewn about the floor of the moving truck, "That's my gear, dude. That stuff's not cheap!"

Sam rolled his eyes in response. "Well, if it was _so_ precious to you, Dean, maybe it would have helped to put duct tape on the _bottom_ of the box, too."

He scoffed. "I wouldn't _need_ to if you would just be more careful."

Sam slowly stood back up, stretching his frame to his full height, crossing his arms, looking down at Dean. "I don't see _you_ moving anything."

He shook his head, smiling at Sam, "Of course not - it's obvious you need a supervisor. Man, didn't Bobby teach you anything?"

"Yeah," Sam said with a grin, "He taught me how to pack correctly. Unlike _some_ people."

He playfully punched Sam on the shoulder. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?"

Sam grinned in return. "Who puts 60 pounds of expensive equipment in a _cardboard_ _box_ anyway?"

He sighed, rolling his eyes and silently cursing to himself. He grabbed Sam by the shoulders and pointed him towards the remaining heap. "Why don't you try that box over there? I think it's full of pillows. Think you can manage that one, Samantha?"

Sam turned towards him, "Again... Why would you pack a _box_ full of _pillows_?"

He knew where this was heading - he'd only been in charge of Sam his _entire life_. He knew he had to strike back, and quick. He crossed the truck in search of a very specific box. "Oh man, Sammy..." He spotted the box and a smile quickly formed. "This box with your computer shit looks really really heavy..." He bent over and feigned trying to pick it up, complete with pathetic grunts. "Man, I hope I don't drop it."

Sam quickly appeared at his side, pushing him away. "Fine! You win. I get it."

Sam grumbled as he walked out of the truck towards the house, box of pillows in tow. Dean smiled, mentally marking this as another victory. He walked to the edge of the truck and stretched out his frame, feeling the muscles in his back unbind a little. Sitting in a moving truck for hours on end doesn't do much to help his back.

He took a deep breath, noticing the distinct difference in air quality compared to Bobby's place. The air here was thicker and it had an inherent industrial smell to it. He didn't mind, he always liked the smell of gasoline mixed with exhaust.

Some movement across the driveway caught his eye. A face appeared in the tiny window of the house next door. Someone was watching him. The face vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. Dean couldn't help but feel a little creeped out. It was entirely possible that he was seeing things, but he was certain he saw a face.

When Sam finally came back from dropping off the box of pillows, he couldn't help but ask, "Hey, Sammy? Do you feel like we're being watched?"

Sam raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "Are you trying to get out of moving these boxes?" He grunted as he hoisted another box into his arms.

Sam knew him surprisingly well, he was impressed. "No... I'm just freaking out," which was true. The feeling of being watched like a piece of prey didn't sit well with him.

The response wasn't as sympathetic as he had hoped. Sam just forced out a laugh and rolled his eyes. "Well, you can freak out _and_ move boxes at the same time." Sam repositioned the box in his arms. "You know, I think you've managed to get out of lifting even a single box."

"Helpful. I can feel the love. Your concern amazes me," he replied dryly.

He knew he was likely annoying his brother at this point. When Sam started getting theatrical with his sighs, it was a good indication that he was reaching his limit. "No one is watching you, Dean. Besides," he added with a slight smile, "you look like shit anyway."

Sam walked out of the truck quickly - only after grabbing his box of computer stuff. He probably knew that Dean was going to kick his ass for that line. "Gee, thanks, Sammy," he yelled after him.

Only moments passed before Sam stomped his way back to the base of the truck ramp, box still in hand. "And it's _Sam_. Not Sammy!" Dean smiled. Sam _hated_ being called Sammy, and he knew it. But Sam would always be Sammy to him. Plus, it was an easy way to get under his skin really fast. What else were brothers for?

It wasn't until they were nearly finished unloading the truck that he spotted the movement again. The curtains in the window of the house next door fluttered, and there was most definitely a face this time. It wasn't a cat, or a breeze, or a ghost. It was a face, and someone was watching him.

"Sam!" He retreated back into the truck and grabbed Sam's shoulders, spinning his giant frame towards the neighboring house. "Look!" He pushed him towards the edge of the truck. "Do you see it!?" He pointed towards the offending window.

Sam looked down at his hand, following where it pointed. Sam glanced towards the house and then back at Dean, a look of confusion on his face. "See what?"

"The neighbor is watching us. Look!" He pointed to the window again, secretly hoping and praying that the face would somehow appear again.

Sam looked again, his expression never changing. "I don't see anything, Dean. You're imagining things again."

"No, dude. Shut up." He ran his hands through his hair, growing more and more frustrated by the whole ordeal. The face could appear at any _other_ time, but not when he needed it to. "I'm being serious here, Sammy."

Sam went back into the truck, heading for the remaining stack of boxes. "Look, if it bothers you that much, why don't you go over there when we're done and introduce yourself? We're almost done anyway. Or should I say _I'm_ almost done..."

Sam grabbed an armful of boxes and headed back towards the house. Dean sighed. He wasn't even sure why it bothered him so much. He exited the truck, the setting sun casting an orange glow, obscuring his vision of the window, no matter how hard he squinted.

An approaching car caught his attention. The noise was amplified by the otherwise silent neighborhood. He shaded his eyes with his hand, watching curiously. The car stopped in front of the neighbor's house.

A young woman climbed out of the car, walking around to the passenger side to fetch a bag. She popped the trunk with her keychain, and made her way back. The trunk was filled with paper bags; way more than she could carry in on her own in one trip, but she grabbed what she could and headed up to the porch of the house, knocking a few times before finally being let in.

He waited for her to make her return, which didn't take long. He interpreted it as an opportunity to introduce himself, so he walked to the end of the driveway, hoping to offer his assistance. He tried not to scare her, so he cleared his throat, indicating his presence. "Need some help with those, ma'am?"

Hunched over the trunk, the woman straightened up, turning to glare at him. "Who are you calling 'ma'am'?"

Any trace of a smile quickly fell from his face. "Sorry... I'm Dean. I'm one of your new neighbors. What would you prefer I call you?"

The woman suddenly smirked, "Some people call me..." she paused dramatically, " Jess."

He mirrored her smirk, relieved that she had a sense of humor. "Alright, _Jess_, did you need some help hauling in those bags?"

Jess' eyes shifted from him to the house and back, her smirk suddenly fading. "I would love the help, but..."

The front door of the house suddenly shut. He looked towards the door and then back to Jess... "But what? It's no big deal for me. Believe it or not, these muscles aren't just for show."

She looked away with a giggle. "I just - Thanks for your offer, but I got it."

He shrugged. "Alright. Suit yourself." She returned her focus to the bags in the trunk. "So, you live here, or what?"

"No, I don't. I just help out."

He walked to the side of the trunk so he could talk to _her_ instead of her back. "Help out with what?"

She turned her head towards him. "Does it matter?"

"Well, you know, new neighbor and all that. I'm just curious."

She glanced up at the door, and then returned her focus to him. "I... I don't think he'd appreciate it if I told you."

He suddenly smiled, "Ah, so it's a he? Is this 'he' your boyfriend?"

She quickly looked away, squeezing her eyes tight. "No, no, no... He's not. Just a friend."

He smirked, "Riiiight. Gotcha. Wink wink, nudge nudge."

She turned her attention back to the trunk, grabbing the remaining bags. "Well Dean, it's been an absolute pleasure speaking to you. I will treasure this moment forever, but I really need to drop these off." She elbowed the trunk closed and headed for the porch.

"Hey, I'm here if you ever need me. For _anything_." He winked.

She giggled. "Thanks for the offer." She opened the door and disappeared.

He turned back towards his house and noticed his brother's head peeking out from behind the moving truck. He knew that look on Sam's face. He braced himself as Sam rushed over.

Sam grabbed Dean's shoulders, shaking him slightly. "Dude! Who is she?"

"Who is who?"

"That girl you were _just_ talking to, Dean."

He pushed Sam's hands off of him. "Oh, her?" He smirked. "She said some people call her Jess."

"What? That's all you got? You don't even know if that's her name..."

"She was busy helping the mysterious neighbor."

"And you didn't think to offer her help?"

"Of course I did. I'm a gentleman, after all. She politely declined."

Sam snorted. "Gentleman? You? Yeah, right."

"I can be a gentleman..."

"Yeah, if it helps you get into their pants... Still, you have to introduce me to her."

He shook his head. "No way, dude. She's busy and I'm not your wingman."

Sam gave him _that_ look... Puppy dog eyes. "Please? For me?"

He never could resist his brother's kicked-puppy look. "Dammit. Fine, you big baby. I don't know why you can't talk to her yourself."

Sam had a dorky smile on his face and looked like he was about to say something, but the front door opened and then quickly slammed, and a sudden burst of shouting came from behind the door.

"What was that?"

"Sounds like a fight."

The shouting crescendoed and then immediately stopped. The brothers stood in awkward silence, keeping an eye on the door to the house. A door slammed somewhere inside the house, and a few moments later they saw the woman emerge from the house, looking slightly less than pleased.

Sam moved behind him. He wasn't really certain what to say at this point, so he stumbled over words. "Um... Hey again."

She glared at him. "You're still here? What do you want?"

"Yeah, still here... And, uh, well, this is my little brother Sam. He wanted to meet you."

Sam stepped out from behind him and waved awkwardly. "Hi... Uh, I'm Sam."

She stood there, momentarily stunned as she eyed him up and down. She looked over at Dean, "_Little_ brother?"

"Yeah, he's kind of a freak. I'm pretty sure he's adopted."

Sam awkwardly shifted his weight between his feet, swaying side to side with a goofy grin on his face. "So... I hear they call you Jess."

Her glare softened. She wiped what looked like a tear from her cheek and released a laugh. "That would be correct." She bit her lip.

His mission accomplished, he cleared his throat. "Yeah, so if you need me, I'll be over in my garage. You two place nice."

He backed away slowly, slipping out of the cloud of sexual tension that surrounded the two and headed for his garage - his mechanical sanctuary. There were no chick flick moments allowed in there, so he was safe for now.

Since Sam was busy flirting, he would focus on unpacking some of his tools and setting up everything to his liking. He grabbed one of the larger boxes resting on one of his work benches when the bottom gave out, dropping a surprisingly heavy tool box on his foot. In the brief period of time that it was falling, he could picture Sam giving him that 'I was right' look and telling him he told him so.

"Son of a bitch!" He immediately grabbed his injured foot and hopped around awkwardly until he plopped himself on the floor of the garage. He grabbed the now empty cardboard box and threw it across the garage in frustration.

"Hey, Dean!" Sam came running up to him.

"What!?" He glared up at Sam, not too pleased with the pain in his foot.

Sam's smile faltered as he stood in the opening of the garage. "Wow, what crawled up your ass and died?"

He rolled his eyes, indicating his foot and the tool box. "Your pet hamster. What do you want?"

Sam's smile instantly returned. "I got her number."

"Ah, that's my Sammy. Way to go." Dean shot him a pained thumbs up.

The boy could hardly contain his excitement. "How long should I wait to call her?"

He looked up at him, amused. "I have no idea, dude. I'm not the person to ask about that stuff. My longest relationship was waiting for the microwave to finish cooking my Hot Pocket."

Sam blinked. "Nice..."

He rubbed his foot. "Did you find anything out about that little fight we heard?"

"No, I didn't want to pry." Sam narrowed his eyes and smirked. "Why do you care?"

"No reason. Just curious. Being a good neighbor and all that."

Sam shook his head and reached down to help his brother up. "You know, Dean... If you would have taped the bottom of that box, it wouldn't have given out like that."

"Dammit, Sam..."


	2. Chapter 2

He awoke later that evening with a start, covered in sweat. He had been having a nightmare, or so it seemed. He took a few moments to catch his breath and mentally reassure himself that he was awake now and nothing was happening. He couldn't really recall what it was about, but he felt so unbelievably panicked that he thought he was going to have a heart attack.

He rolled over to the side of the bed and grabbed his phone from its spot on the nightstand, checking the time and to see if he had any messages.

He did not.

Jess must have still been mad at him from earlier and he couldn't help be feel like a complete ass for the way he acted; or rather _re_acted. He wouldn't be able to rest, though, knowing that she was still mad at him. He would call her, but he couldn't handle speaking on phones... He hasn't been able to since college. If people called him, he would send it directly to voicemail and then text them a response. He decided to text Jess now since he knew she'd still be awake.

_Hey..._

_What do you want?_

_I wanted to apologize._

_Cas, I'm not going to do this over text. Call me._

He felt his stomach do a flip. _I... I can't._

_Then I guess we're not having this conversation._

_Can you come over then?_

_No, I'm not going to come over. That's exactly the problem, Cas... You really hurt me today. I'm trying to help you and this is the thanks I get?_

_I'm sorry, Jess. I really am._

_I didn't mind helping you at first, but after 3 years of this? I can't do it anymore, Cas._

He dreaded what he knew was coming._ Jess, please._

_You know I love you. I always have and always will, but I think there is something wrong with you. This isn't normal or healthy._

_Why would you say that?_

_What you're doing is not normal, don't you realize that? Normal people go outside. Normal people socialize._

_So you're done with me? Just like that?_

_I think I need a break... And I think you need to figure out what's wrong._

_There's nothing wrong, Jess._

_Sure, sweetie. You should have enough food to last a week or so._

_Jess, don't do this to me._

_If you need more, you know where the stores are._

_Jess, please..._

_Goodbye, Cas._

_You can't do this! It isn't fair._

Cas waited for a reply, but he knew deep down Jess was done talking to him. He let his phone fall to his side and he stared at his ceiling, letting his mind process what just happened. He messed up; it was pretty simple. He shouldn't have snapped the way he did, but his body went into autopilot. He knew that no matter how hard he tried to explain that to Jess, he'd have no way to convince her. He could hardly understand what happened himself, let alone be able to describe it to someone else. His body just... acted... and managed to screw him over.

A long sigh slipped from his lips as he tried to figure out what was going to happen next. There wasn't anything wrong with him - Jess was _wrong_. He didn't want to meet the neighbors, it was pretty simple. He had a long list of reasons for why and that was completely _normal_ behavior. All people have social days and then antisocial days. He could go outside and socialize whenever he wanted... he just didn't want to at that time. In fact, he could go outside right now and prove Jess wrong. He was normal. He was healthy.

With new found vigor, he was determined to take out the garbage from the day; the shopping trip left a lot of bags. He gathered the trash, combining it into a big black garbage bag, and he was bound and determined to prove his point. When he got to his front door, his body froze in a moment of hesitation, but he forced himself to keep moving. He pulled the door open, setting out for the dumpster behind his house... next to the neighbors' garage.

Walking out onto the porch, he never realized just how loud the squeaky floorboards were before. He stopped at the top of the steps to survey the area, and when he didn't see anyone around, he quickly proceeded down the steps before taking a left turn towards the neighbors' driveway. It was a nice, quiet, crystal clear night... and if he knew the houses around him were empty, he would have loved to sit in his driveway and watch the stars, but that was a lost hope now.

Sighing, he took another left turn towards the back of his house and the shared dumpster when he heard a voice arise from the darkness. "You know... People only sneak around at night if they have something to hide. Unless you're training to be a ninja, or something... I'm not one to judge. Whatever floats your boat."

He froze trying to pinpoint the source and location of the voice, but he couldn't see anyone around; his eyes hadn't yet fully adjusted to the dark. He was able to determine that it came from the direction of the neighbors' house, yet it was fairly close. The neighbor boy must have been sitting outside or something.

He felt his heart start to race... He could feel the throbbing palpitations in his head. He wanted to run, but he couldn't. His legs were frozen. He didn't want to make a bigger fool of himself in front of the neighbor. He turned his head, looking back towards his porch, and then back into the darkness. His throat started to tighten and his breathing became shallow. He couldn't handle it, the sensations were too much for him. He wanted to go to the dumpster and just get it over with... He knew the neighbor wasn't going to hurt him... But his body was rigid and uncooperative and he felt like he would vomit at any moment. He took a deep breath and dropped the bag and ran back for his house.

He heard a voice calling after him, "Wait! _Shit..._I'm sorry! I didn't want to scare you!"

Two quick right turns and he was back inside his house... He locked the front door and headed straight for his bedroom and crawled into his bed, not bothering to remove his shoes. He took several deep breaths and slowly expelled the air as he tried to hum the song his mother would sing to him when he was sick.._. Jesus Loves the Little Children._Slowly, he began to feel his heart rate lower, the palpitations and throbbing drawing to an end, and his throat finally loosening enough to allow him to swallow.

He pulled his covers over his head, suddenly feeling completely exhausted. He replayed the scene in his mind, over and over again. But he was confused as to why the neighbor thought he scared him... He wasn't scared. He was... Well, he was _something_; not _scared_. Maybe Jess was right after all. That wasn't exactly a normal, healthy social interaction... And as much as he wanted to drop the trash off in the dumpster and come back inside, ignoring the annoying neighbor, he couldn't. His body took over his brain completely. He was powerless over it.

He heard a distant knock at his front door, but he chose to ignore it. He didn't want to leave his blanket sanctuary; not for anything.

There was another knock and a muffled voice, "_Uh, hello... I'm your new neighbor and I just wanted to say hi... And apologize for whatever I did wrong... So, uh... Hello. And goodbye."_

He frowned. The guy didn't do anything wrong. He would have opened his mouth to talk to him... but at the time, had he actually been able to open it, he likely would have puked everywhere. And that probably would have been more embarrassing than dropping the trash and running away like a little girl.

He let out a sigh and wrapped himself tighter in his blanket... Maybe something _was_wrong with him. Or maybe it was that bossy, smaller neighbor guy that made his body act the way it did... That's the only thing that had changed recently... He and Jess were fine for over three years, even after their breakup, but once these new guys moved in, everything fell apart. He lost control of his body and mind, and Jess got pushed beyond her breaking point.

He didn't want to think about it anymore. He knew he wanted sleep, and to wrap himself in his blanket cocoon, and to not wake up for a long time. Things were going to change, he knew, but whether or not they were going to change for the better was still completely up in the air.

* * *

Later that evening, he walked into his new house after a long day of unloading. He wanted nothing more than to grab a cold beer and lounge on the sofa, and fall asleep watching some trashy TV. Instead, he saw Sam sprawled out on the hardwood floor in what would soon be their living room, piles of boxes stacked against the bare, white walls, and cellophane still covering the couch.

He looked down at Sam, raising an eyebrow. "We have a couch, you know."

Sam yawned and stretched out his huge body. "Yeah, but when will I get the chance to lay on the floor like this again?"

"You have a point..." He pondered thoughtfully for a moment, almost tempted to join him. But his mind kept wandering back to the mysterious neighbor. And the fight. And the staring.

Sam spoke up, cutting the silence. "So what do you think that fight was about?"

"I honestly have no idea. Jess didn't look too happy when she came out..."

"She didn't mention anything about the fight, though. Do you think he's abusive or something?"

"I don't know. I have no clue what the guy's like. We don't even know his name. Jess wouldn't tell me anything."

"Maybe it's some old, crazy hoarder guy? Or some serial killer who was eyeing you up because he wants to steal your skin to make into a Dean sweater."

He turned his eyes from the window down to this brother on the floor, a look of disbelief on his face. "Dude... What is wrong with your head?"

Sam smiled. "Uncle Bobby let me watch a lot of horror movies growing up."

He shook his head and walked over to him, nudging him in the side with his foot. "So, are we gonna eat, or are you just gonna lay there all night?"

Sam waved his hand at him, "Order me some pizza. You may have a piece if I am feeling generous."

He bowed with a glare. "Yes, your highness."

He left the room rolling his eyes and hunted down a local phone book. He looked up the number for the Chinese restaurant he saw when they drove into town. Sam was going to get Chinese food because Dean Winchester was no one's bitch.

After the meal of Chinese food and Sam's pouting, he figured he'd relax. He didn't have a living room to unwind in, so he would go outside - grab a lawn chair, set it up in his driveway, grab a cooler and some beers, and just stare up at the stars for a while. He asked Sam if he wanted to join him, like the good ol' days, but he would rather text Jess. Sam's loss, more beer for him.

As he lounged in the small metal chair, taking in the sights of the sky slightly obscured by the light pollution of the nearby city, he felt as the alcohol began to take hold, working the tension out of his muscles. He was slipping into a comfortable buzz when he heard a door in the distance slowly creak open. He spotted a twitchy man making his way off the porch of the neighbor's house and onto Dean's driveway. He was carrying something in his hands and obviously hadn't noticed Dean, and he didn't want to scare the man, so he decided to make his presence known.

"You know... People only sneak around at night if they have something to hide. Unless you're training to be a ninja or something... I'm not one to judge. Whatever floats your boat."

That was _probably_ the wrong thing to say. The man stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Dean, eyes wide. The man kept staring at him, frantically shifting his gaze from him back to his porch and back to him. He suddenly dropped whatever he was holding and ran back towards the porch.

"Wait! _Shit_... I'm sorry! I didn't want to scare you!"

It was too late. The man was long gone already. He was surprisingly quick. He must have been scared to death by Dean. Was it something he said? Maybe he accidentally offended him. Knowing his luck, the man's parents were killed in the only ninja-related accident in the history of the US.

He pushed himself out of his lawn chair, walked over to see what the man dropped. A bag of trash. He stared at it a bit before deciding to pick it up and throw it in the dumpster near his garage. Maybe that would help smooth things over; show the man that he wasn't some scary monster. Plus, he didn't really want trash laying in his driveway. What would the neighbors think? Oh wait.

He stood in the middle of his driveway, replaying the events that just took place in his mind. Something had spooked the guy into dropping a bag of trash in the middle of a driveway. It obviously wasn't some tradition he wasn't aware of, because there was no trash in the driveway when they moved in. The only thing different was Dean. So he must have been the cause of the man's freak out. It certainly wasn't his intention, though. He had to get to the bottom of this.

He walked over to the neighbor's house, climbed the empty porch, and knocked on the door. There was a light visible from the window near the door, but he couldn't see any movement inside. He knocked again, but there was still no answer. He had a funny feeling that the guy was more than aware that he was out there, though. He decided to try talking to him.

"Uh, hello... I'm your new neighbor and I just wanted to say hi... And apologize for whatever I did wrong... So, uh... Hello. And goodbye."

He sighed to himself, hating to give up on a mission, but he had no other choice. He slowly left the porch and turned back towards his house. He put the lawn chair away and grabbed his remaining beer before heading inside. He had had one helluva day, and he just wanted to crash at this point. He zombied his way inside the dark and quiet house and sighed when he realized that the only thing separating him from his bed was a flight of stairs. He climbed the stairs one by one, peeling off his dirty clothes as he went, and crashed in his bed the second he reached his room, hoping to sleep the day's insanity away. But his mind kept reminding him that the neighbor was probably deathly afraid of him at this point. And that he had to make amends for it. But if he couldn't talk to him, then how could he communicate?

A note. Sure, it screamed middle school, but it had to work at this point. There were really no other options, outside of bribing Jess. He decided that would be the new plan of action. He'd write the note and then he'd shove that damned note under the man's door so he'd be sure to see it. But his consciousness was quickly fading; the buzz of the alcohol mixing with sleep and the comfort of his bed. The note would have to wait until morning.

Except that his brain soon woke him up, demanding that he write that note now rather than later. Cursing his brain and threatening to stab it with a Q-tip later, he threw on some clothes he found on the floor and quietly sneaked into Sam's room to steal some paper and a pen from his school supplies. Then he attempted to tiptoe down the stairs, not really managing to keep quiet. He sat down at the dining room table and scribbled the note.

It wasn't a Shakespearean sonnet, but it would certainly do. It got the point across, at least. He folded it in half and headed over to the neighbor's house. He climbed the porch, illuminated by moonlight, and surveyed the door. There wasn't a mail slot. Of course not. So he forcefully shoved the paper under the door, wrinkling it all to hell as he tried. But after a bit of cursing, he got it in there. He patted himself on the back, and left the door before the neighbor had another heart attack. He had made his move; the ball was in that man's court now.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: As usual, reviews are greatly appreciated.**

* * *

Cas awoke the next morning, or rather, _afternoon_, with an all over body ache. He slept a long time, but it was hardly peaceful sleep. He tossed and turned more than usual and even his dreams were stressful. He didn't want to leave his bed, content to remain until he started growing moss, but his bladder was screaming at him, as was his brain needing its caffeine fix. He crawled out of bed, turned on the coffee machine, and took care of the other problem while he waited for his liquid fuel to brew.

When he emerged from the bathroom, he noticed a piece of paper laying on the floor near his front door. Confused, he went to pick it up. It was a note; handwritten in what he could only assume was either hieroglyphs, chicken scratch, or messy English. It might as well have been written in crayon. He read the first line and his eyes widened when he realized who it was from.

_Dear neighbor,_

_I'm sorry if I offended you or scared you in any way. I was just trying to be friendly._

_I never got a chance to actually introduce myself. My name is Dean Winchester. As you may have noticed, I recently moved in next door with my younger brother Sam. He is attending college here, so he won't be around too often. I work in my garage restoring classic cars, but I will try and stay respectably quiet. If I make too much noise or anything, just let me know._

_Anyway, sorry again. I'll take you out for a beer or something to make up for the scare. It might be cool to get to know you, considering we're neighbors, and that my brother has the hots for your little friend._

_Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man,  
__Dean Winchester_

He set the crumpled paper down on his counter. He wasn't awake enough yet to fully comprehend anything that the note contained. The strong aroma of coffee reminded him to check the coffee machine. He noticed a cup's worth had been brewed, so he poured himself some.

He grabbed the note, grabbed the cup, and headed for his couch. He took a sip, sat down, and slowly read through the note again. His first reaction was that the neighbor had, indeed, witnessed his freak out in detail enough to comment on it. He wanted to crawl in a hole and cry.

But what did the neighbor want? _Dean._ What did _Dean_want? If the shoe was on the other foot, Cas wouldn't have given the neighbor the time of day, especially after witnessing those various stunts... but why did Dean care?

And who was his "little friend"? Was Dean referring to Jess? That would certainly explain the giggling and lip biting. But just the mention of Jess was enough to make his heart hurt. He still felt terrible, even after a night of sleep. In fact, he felt worse now than he did before. But if Jess were to date the neighbor boy, wouldn't that mean she'd be around often? Perhaps that would give him a chance to fix things with her... He'd just have to approach her when she was outside.

Dean wanted to get a beer with him. No, Dean wanted to _take him out_ for a beer. He put the note away, feeling slightly overwhelmed. The thought of getting beers with Dean made his throat tighten and his stomach gurgle, and he didn't want to deal with that. He turned on his TV, hoping to distract his mind. Quickly flipping through the channels, he was happy to see that there was an all-day marathon of _Law and Order: SVU._ If there was anything that he loved, it was a nice murder mystery, and any crime drama seemed to fill that niche quite nicely. Except for _CSI: Miami_. He couldn't stand that show.

After the fourth episode in a row, he was starting to get restless. He felt as though the note was staring at him, begging to be addressed, but he would ignore it; it was just a stupid note. This wasn't elementary school; he didn't do the whole note thing. None of that "do you like me, circle yes or no" stuff. He felt his stomach start to rumble and decided now was as good a time as any to fix some dinner. It would certainly distance him from the note and give him a break from trying to figure out whodunit.

He rummaged through his cabinets trying to piece together a meal from the last haul Jess brought him. He tended to stick to pretty much the same meals every week, so she always knew what to get him; but tonight he was feeling adventurous. He pulled out a box of rotini pasta and set it on the counter next to the stove. Pasta: always a good start.

He placed a pot of water on the stove to boil before he started digging through his refrigerator. He had some tomatoes that he'd need to use soon, and he had some mushrooms and some cheese. It was just enough to make one of his favorite dishes his dad had always made after church on Sundays. His dad had called it _Pasta à la Jesus_, which he got a kick out of as a kid, but it was less charming when he got older and finally understood the meaning.

He was in need of some comfort food, so a big bowl of ooey gooey pasta was just what the doctor ordered. He started pouring the box of rotini into the pot of boiling water, but a loud car horn honked twice and he jumped, almost flinging dried pasta everywhere. He quickly finished pouring it in and headed toward the dining room window to find out what those neighbor boys were up to this time...

He lifted the curtain to peer out towards the neighbor's - no, _Dean's _driveway and saw him messing around in the trunk of his monstrous car. Dean glanced up at him and the gentle smile Dean had on his face left, being replaced with a frown. Then he quickly walked away towards his house. Cas sighed and let the curtain fall before he walked back into the kitchen.

He couldn't help but feel guilty... Why did Dean look so disappointed when he noticed him? He thought back to the note and felt even worse for not responding to it earlier. He hoped Dean didn't get the wrong idea about him. Well, the wrong-er idea about him.

He sighed again and stirred the pasta, tasting a piece to check if it was ready. It was an almost perfect al dente. He drained it, and began to prepare the sauce. A few cups of milk, a tab of butter, a handful of cheese, and some flour for thickness. Pretty soon, he had a heaping bowl of _Pasta à la Jesus_and some crime dramas. He was content for the first time in the last two days.

But that note remained unanswered.

Even with a full belly and some successful episode predictions, it didn't stop the pang of whatever emotion it was Cas experienced when he thought of Dean and the note. He had to answer, it was pretty obvious at this point... But how would he get it to Dean without having to come face to face with him or his giant brother?

He decided his best bet would be to wait until nightfall before venturing outside towards the neighboring house. He'd mimic the lengths Dean went to, and forcefully shove the note under their front door. He headed to the desk in the dining room to find a pen, and he flipped Dean's note over and scrawled his reply on the back. Now he just had to wait until he was certain no one was awake - or hiding outside on the driveway - to make his delivery.

He checked his watch and realized it was getting pretty late. Since he was in the dining room, he took a peek towards their house and noticed a few lights still on, as well as one of the windows wide open. He figured he had some more time to wait. He headed back towards his living room and started flipping through the other channels. The marathon he had been watching started replaying episodes from earlier in the day, so there was no point in re-watching them since he already knew what was going to happen.

Not finding anything, he shut the TV off and picked up the book he was reading before everything fell apart. He realized now that the book was likely overdue and that Jess usually returned the books for him, and now that crutch was gone. That sudden realization made his heart skip a beat and he felt horrible. He could try texting Jess again, but he was fairly certain it was a lost cause.

He hunted down his phone anyway. He wasn't going to give up. He needed Jess; she played a huge role in his life, and he wasn't going to lose her without a fight. He found the phone on his nightstand in his bedroom, plugged into the charger. He grabbed it and started typing a message...

_I'm really sorry. Really. Please forgive me?_

There was no reply. He wasn't sure how to react, so he just put the phone back on the nightstand and went back into the living room, plopping down on the couch in defeat. He tried.

At least he had a mission to work towards accomplishing. Operation: Note Delivery.

* * *

Dean awoke the next morning with his face buried in a pillow and half his body hanging off his bed. He rolled over, wiping the drool from his mouth, and stretched out his tired, achy body. If he didn't know better, he'd think he ran a marathon in his sleep. He grabbed a t-shirt laying on the floor and threw it on before he made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen.

There was lots of work to be done, but Sam's bedroom door was still closed, so that meant either he was still asleep or that he was having his "private time." Dean learned many years ago to not disturb that and, in that same lesson, he learned to always knock before entering his little brother's room. Dean assumed he was still sleeping, and brewed a fresh pot of coffee.

He was well into his second cup of coffee when he heard his brother's door open and footsteps shuffle down the stairs. "Morning, Sammy."

"Meh."

Sam shuffled past him and headed straight for the refrigerator. There was nothing inside, Dean knew, but it didn't stop Sam from staring at the empty shelves before ultimately closing the door and sighing.

"If you're hungry, there's some pork lo mein left. It's in the microwave."

"I think I had enough MSG to last me a while, thanks. Can't we get some real food? Like Fruity Pebbles?"

His grimaced. "You consider Fruity Pebbles 'real food'? You have issues."

"We don't even have milk. How am I supposed to drink my coffee? I can't drink coffee without milk."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine, we can go shopping today. Happy now?"

"But I don't want to... Can't you go alone?"

"Sam, I'm not your servant, waiting on you hand and foot."

"Are you sure about that?"

"If you want food, you're coming with me. If not, then I'm feeding myself and you can have packets of soy sauce for lunch. How's that sound?"

"I'm sure Uncle Bobby would _love _to hear all about how you forced me to eat nothing but condiments."

"Dammit, Sam... The things I do for you." Sam was well aware of that trump card.

"I'll make you a list."

Dean downed another cup of coffee before jumping in the shower and getting changed. He wasn't really looking forward to the trip to the store, having no idea where it was located; but since he was being blackmailed into it, he figured he'd drive around town and see what he could find.

A little before noon, he was finally ready. He begrudgingly grabbed the list that Sam actually made him and set out for his exploration adventure. It would be nice to have some alone time, just him and his baby. His Impala had been neglected the past few days due to the moving, and she probably felt a little left out.

He noticed a few interesting places on his drive into town. There was the Chinese place they ordered from the night before, right next door to a pizza place. There was a bowling alley and a movie theater side by side. And there, at the end of a long strip mall filled with offices and various health professionals, was a Wal-Mart, in all of its cheap glory. It was easier to find than he thought.

He made his way into the jungle of savings, amazed at the amount of people in the store for such a small town. It must have been the only one in the area, so other towns used it. He pulled out the list so lovingly crafted by his brother and rolled his eyes at half the items on it; it ranged from Pringles to pudding, and there was no way he was buying this stuff for his brother, no matter how much blackmail was involved.

He went up and down the aisles, just stocking up on the kitchen essentials instead. He filled the cart with various breads, lunch meats, and canned goods; he wasn't a great cook and neither was Sam, but it's really hard to mess up a sandwich or a can of ravioli.

When he got back to his car after paying the $200 total, he checked his phone. Three new messages from Sam, all asking him to pick up specific foods he forgot to add to the list. He ignored them, not bothering to respond when he noticed it was well into the afternoon. He somehow managed to spend over five hours driving around town and trapped in the hell known as Wal-Mart.

_Hey on my way_

_Where have you been? I'm starving._

_Trapd in walmart_

_For 5 hours? Did you fall in love or something?_

_Haha vry funy_

_Did you get me some ice cream?_

_Ull c in a bit_

_So that's a no?_

_Bye sam_

Dean tossed the phone into the passenger seat and started the car. He'd be home in a few minutes, Sam could handle himself. When he drove past the bar, he slowed down, debating whether or not to pull into the parking lot. He noticed there were a few cars there, so he wouldn't be the only one if he did go in... But they were mostly newer "my-parents-bought-me-this-for-graduation" cars, which meant almost exclusively college kids... He could wait.

He pulled into his driveway after the short drive from the store and honked his horn twice hoping Sam would get the idea to come out and help haul the goods in. He grabbed his phone from the passenger seat and pocketed it before he cut the ignition and headed for the trunk.

Sam walked outside with a big smile on his face and raced towards the car, not saying a word. He grabbed a few bags from the open trunk, and carried them in without complaint. He perked an eyebrow, curious in what Sam was up to. He wasn't going to question it though, because Sam was _actually _helping.

He was grabbing a few bags when he noticed movement from the corner of his eye. The curtains in the neighbor's window fluttered and he saw a brief flash of a face. Dean frowned a bit, realizing the horn must have disturbed him. But the note invited the man to complain whenever he wanted, so it must not have been too annoying. Dean carried the bags inside as he pondered.

Soon the trunk was empty and his kitchen counters were full. Sam looked at Dean expectantly, like the bags would magically unpack themselves at his command.

"Don't give me that look. You know where this stuff goes."

"But I helped carry them in."

"And _I _had to buy all this crap. You could at least help put them away."

"Fiiiiine."

Sam pouted a little and started putting the canned goods away. The pout didn't last long before he was grinning again. The curiosity was getting the better of him, and he couldn't bear it any longer.

"Sam... Why are you smiling like an idiot?"

"I'm not."

"Oh yes you are. I know that look. That's the 'I'm keeping something awesome from Dean' look."

Sam shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about. I tell you everything."

"Yeah, after I beat it out of you."

"It's nothing."

Like he would buy that... "Come on, spill it, Sammy boy."

"Ugh, Dean. It's _Sam_. And fine," he beamed, "I have a date."

He was actually surprised. "What? Already? With the Jess girl?"

"Yeah. Guess I must be charming or something."

He smiled at him. "You've got the Winchester charm. You can charm the pants off of anyone."

"I was texting her and she suggested we get together and do something."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? When?"

"She said she'd let me know."

"Ah..." He smirked, "That's not good."

"What? Why?" Sam looked worried. Just what he was going for.

"It's one of the oldest tricks in the book. 'Don't call me, I'll call you.' Looks like she rejected you."

"Nah. She'll call. I know she will."

He waved his hand in the air. "Whatever you say, but don't come crying to me when you don't hear from her."

"How supportive... I guess I could always cry into a bowl of ice cream as I watch some chick flicks."

"Yeah, about that... Looks like I forgot to get you ice cream." He shrugged his shoulders.

"What?! How could you forget? I wrote it on the list twice. And I texted you three reminders."

"I'm getting forgetful in my old age... You'll have to cry into a bowl of Spaghetti-O's."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "You did that on purpose."

"Guess you'll never know. You'll have to go with me next time and make sure I don't forget anything... or get lost... or go home with the wrong family..."

He retreated to the living room and plopped down on the couch. He wanted nothing more than to rest after his exciting adventure at Wal-Mart. He was normally a people person and loved going out, but there was something utterly emotionally draining about Wal-Mart. It sucked the life out of him.

As soon as he got comfortable, he heard the freezer door in the kitchen open and Sam start to rummage through the food they just finished putting away. He ignored it as best he could, but soon Sam started sighing loudly.

"Dean, there's nothing to eat."

That got him up off the couch. He stomped into the kitchen, "What are you talking about? There's tons of stuff."

Sam hung on the door of the freezer, "Nothing looks good."

"Dammit, Sam... I swear..."

"Aren't you hungry?"

"I'm more tired than hungry, but I could eat..."

"Well, can you make us something? What about pizza?"

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You're telling me you've been staring in the freezer this whole time and you couldn't take out a pizza and stick it in the oven on your own?"

"I like it better when you make it."

He stared at his brother, finding it very hard not to slap him across the head. "Get out of here."

"Call me when it's ready."

Sam hurried out of the kitchen, and Dean could hear him climb the stairs before he heard his door shut. He sighed and pulled one of the pizzas from the freezer, peeled off the plastic outer wrap, and threw it in the oven. He cranked the temperature up, set the timer, and headed back to the couch to melt into the cushion.

He turned the TV on, flipping it to his favorite channel; all cars, all the time. He was really getting into the latest episode of _Overhaulin'_when he heard a childish giggle come from Sam's room. Choosing to ignore it for now and making a mental note to tease him about it later, he focused back on his show. It wasn't long before he heard another giggle. He rolled his eyes and turned up the volume.

He must have fallen asleep because he was soon awakened by Sam and greeted by a large cloud of black smoke. He bolted into the kitchen to find a blackened disc sitting on top of the counter. Sam followed him in and looked at him expectantly.

He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the horrendous blaring of the smoke alarm. He frantically tried to find it and shut it off before the noise made him go deaf. He tried to run up the stairs, tripping over his feet, before finally making it to the top and reaching up to press the little button to silence it.

He trotted back down the stairs and into the kitchen. "Well, at least we know the alarm works."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Yeah, after the fact."

"Better than nothing. Come on, open up a window so we can get some of this smoke out of here."

He pointed Sam towards one of the windows in the kitchen while he inspected the remnants of the pizza to see if it was salvageable. He poked and prodded, but the pizza was nothing more than a charcoal briquette now.

"How do you mess up frozen pizza, Dean?"

"Shut up. I'm not a cook. If you wanted food so bad, you should have made it yourself."

"Did you not hear the timer going off?"

"No... I was trying to drown out the sound of your giggling."

Sam shook his head. "You were sleeping, so it obviously wasn't that annoying."

"Next time, you can make the pizza."

"If I _did _make it, Dean, it wouldn't be a hunk of charcoal."

"I gave you that option and you guilted me into doing it instead. So, you know what? Dinner's served, Sammy Boy. Eat up."

"Wow, what's your problem?"

"It's Friday night, I'm going to get drunk and hopefully get laid. Don't burn down the house."

Having no intention to come home sober, or home at all for that matter, Dean decided to walk to the bar down the street. It was late enough now that people his own age would start showing up so he wouldn't feel like such a creep for hitting on college kids.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: As always, reviews are greatly appreciated.**

* * *

Cas woke the next morning feeling rather triumphant, he was able to deliver the note without any problems. Granted he didn't run into anyone this time, but he made the delivery. Jess was wrong after all. Cas was capable of doing things on his own.

He rolled out of bed and checked his phone for messages... just in case. Seeing none, he went to brew his morning pot of coffee. While he waited for it to brew, he took care of his other needs and headed back in the kitchen to make himself some Pop-Tarts.

He headed for his dining room table to eat his frosted pastry delights and ingest his caffeine for the day. He sat in a chair with his back facing the window... He always felt more comfortable that way. He was less likely to stare out the window that way. When the neighboring house was empty, it was fine to occasionally sit facing it and glance out and see the sunrise, or a flock of birds splashing about in a puddle... But now he ran the risk of spotting one of the neighbor boys. He didn't want that temptation to stare...

He sighed and bit into one of the Pop-Tarts. He didn't really have plans for the day, he never did, but he knew that classes were starting soon at the college. One of his biggest regrets was dropping out; his senior year, no less. He was only a few credits shy of a degree, but he just couldn't handle things anymore after his dad passed. But he knew the college now offered online classes, as Jess had told him a few times.

He finished his Pop-Tarts and downed the rest of his cup of coffee before he went to grab his laptop. He logged on to the college website and read up on their online class offerings. He realized that they did, indeed, offer the few classes he needed in order to obtain his degree. Sure, it was a pointless degree, a mathematics major, but it was more about the idea behind it; actually finishing what he started. If he could finish this one thing, he could prove to Jess once and for all that he didn't have a problem and that he was completely self-sufficient.

He checked what he needed to do in order to register for classes. Step one was to log in to the online student center. Step two was to register the specific classes. Step three was to pay the tuition. Step four was to sit back and obtain the degree just to prove Jess wrong.

He was able to create an account and log in with no issues; he was glad he remembered his student ID number after so many years of not using it. He searched through the open classes, he knew it was a little late to be registering, but since these were all 400 level courses, he didn't think many students would be signed up.

He was able to find the three courses he needed and they were open and available in an online format. He was relieved. He quickly registered and was redirected to a 'check out' page of sorts. He needed to find his credit card. He felt a little guilty about using his dad's money for these "pointless" things, as his dad often reminded him, but he didn't know what else to do with the relatively vast sum left to him. His dad wasn't anti-college, just anti-everything Cas liked. If his dad had his way, Cas would have been a theology major, or something "useful" like engineering or a doctor, but he couldn't see himself doing any of those things in his life.

He headed towards his bedroom to find his wallet and grab his card. It was on his nightstand, collecting a bit of dust on the top of it. It showed how often he really used it. He picked it up and brushed the dust off onto his pajama pants and opened it up.

He quickly realized that he no longer had his credit card... Jess still had it from the shopping trip. He trusted her with it, obviously, and knew she wouldn't go on spending sprees, and he didn't care that she had it... usually. But in this case he needed it back, especially if she was never going to speak to him again.

He grabbed his phone and headed back to the dining room table, sitting down with a sigh. He'd have to text her again and ask for it back... and soon. Classes started Monday, after all, and he wasn't officially registered without paying the tuition.

_Hey... Sorry to bother you, but you seem to have my credit card and I need it back. It's kind of important._

He'd wait for her reply, but he wasn't expecting it any time soon. He felt like banging his head against the table when he heard voices outside. It was the noisy neighbor boys again... He sighed loudly to no one in particular.

He couldn't make out what they were saying clearly, but they weren't yelling for once. He was really tempted to look and see what was going on, but he distracted himself otherwise.

"_And remember, I will castrate you in your sleep if you hurt my baby."_

That caught his attention.

He spun around in his chair and parted the curtain a bit to see what was going on. He saw the bigger guy climb into their monster of a car, and he saw the shorter one, _Dean_, looking visibly upset. That car must have been his 'baby'. He forgot that some guys loved cars that much; his dad was one of them.

The bigger one backed out of their driveway and then spun-out the tires as he took off the road, and Dean looked almost like he could faint. Cas couldn't help but smile. Then he noticed Dean was starting to look his way, so he let the curtain fall, and turned back away from the window.

He could have kicked himself... He started feeling ill and decided to get away from the dining room table. He moved to the living room on the opposite side of the house, that way he would no longer be tempted to look outside... and so he could hear himself think, or so he told himself.

He sat on his couch and looked around his living room... He never felt so restless in his entire life. He could read, he could watch TV, he could doodle, he could nap... The possibilities were endless, but he didn't feel like doing any of that. He settled on turning the TV on and seeing what would come of it. There was a marathon of NCIS on; he could get into that. He always loved DiNozzo for some reason.

After the first commercial break he decided to get some more coffee. He passed the dining room on the way to his kitchen and reminded himself to ignore the window. He poured himself a fresh cup and headed back when he realized he left his phone on the dining room table. He walked over and grabbed it, but couldn't help but peek out the window.

Dean was on a ladder stripping the pink paint off the trim of his garage... Cas always thought the pink trim was a little tacky, but he was surprised Dean would bother with it. No one else had.

He kept watching him, trying to figure out what color he would pick for the trim, but Dean looked towards him and he immediately realized he was staring. He felt his stomach do a flip and he let the curtain fall quickly. He pounded his phone into his forehead, mentally chastising himself for looking again.

He headed back to the couch for the rest of the episode. It was a rerun, but it was still entertaining. There was something about the characters that made the show re-watchable and highly enjoyable. Maybe it was the character dynamic of the cast as a whole. He couldn't put his finger on it. In addition to DiNozzo, he really like that Abby girl. She reminded him of Jess.

Still no text, so he was in a state of limbo. Another episode started and he figured he would fix himself some lunch. He headed back towards the kitchen and fixed himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Quick, easy, and delicious. He headed back towards the living room but realized he left his laptop on... He headed back to the dining room table to turn it off and took that chance to peek out the window again.

Dean was on the ladder still, this time actually painting. It was an odd shade of off-white which didn't really go with the white of the garage. He looked a bit more and tried to figure out why Dean had chosen that color, when he realized that it was just the primer coat. Cas was surprised that Dean knew how to paint properly.

He realized he was staring again, but only when Dean looked in his direction again and smiled. He quickly dropped the curtain and felt so stupid. It was obvious that his brain was out to get him. He shut off the laptop, closed it, and brought it with him into the living room so he wouldn't have another excuse to look out the damned window.

The episode was still in the first half, but he found himself growing really restlessly bored. He focused on eating his sandwich, hoping he could focus on the show, the sandwich, or anything except what the neighbor was doing. Why did he care what color he was painting the trim of the garage? He never cared about the neighbor's garage before, so why start now?

The episode was finished, his sandwich was finished, and he found himself staring towards the dining room rather than at the TV or his phone... or anything that wasn't the stupid window. He got up to bring his plate back to the kitchen and told himself he'd allow one more look, just to see what color he was going with, and that would be it.

He walked into the dining room, pulled up the curtain, and took his final look. Gray. It was going to be gray. It was fitting. It certainly looked better than the pink. Dean looked pretty content with it, too. He noticed that his lips were moving, but there was no one else out there. Cas realized quickly that Dean was singing to himself. Cas smiled... And then he realized he was staring again. He let the curtain fall before he saw Dean look at him. Maybe he got away with it this time?

He went back into the living room and told himself no more. It was NCIS time, not garage time. Another episode down and he started to really wish Jess would text him back. He wanted to get the class stuff cleared up as soon as he could. Plus, having access to his money would be nice. He wondered to himself how he would get groceries now that Jess was gone... He figured he could always try shopping himself, but the thought was enough to make his heart skip a beat.

After another episode, he wanted to do anything but watch anymore. He's been watching for hours and figured there had to be something else to do with his time. He really wanted new books, but that was Jess' thing. She'd get him new books that he had on hold and bring them. He's been stuck with the same ones since she flipped. He figured they were overdue now and really wished he could bring them back. But the library was pretty far away... and it was Saturday... and it was hot out.

Some movement caught his eye. There was a shadow outside the dining room window. He didn't really want to know what it was, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. He broke his own rule and went back to the window to look.

He pulled back the curtain and was startled when he saw what was out there. It was Dean, inches from the window, shirtless and sweaty, staring directly at him.

"_Nice to see you... finally."_

Cas felt his throat tighten up, his stomach clench, his heart speed up, and all of his muscles freeze. He didn't know whether to run, laugh, cry, puke, or faint.

He started humming _Jesus Loves the Little Children_ to himself, mouthing the few of the words he could muster. He was staring at Dean, his eyes wide in fear. He felt like he was trapped somehow.

He let the curtain fall, cutting off the intense staring contest between the two of them. He felt a small bit of relief, but the shadow on the other side of the window wouldn't leave.

"_You know I can see you when you're watching me, right? You're not being sneaky."_

He knew? Cas figured he'd notice, but why didn't he ever say anything before? Cas felt like an idiot, and his throat was so tight he could hardly breathe, let alone swallow.

He retreated quickly to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He fell into his bed and tried to hum the rest of the song, not feeling any of the usual calming effects. He took a few deep breaths and pulled his blankets up over his head, managing to cut out the sunlight and the rest of the world as he tried to regulate his body. He wasn't in any danger, but why was his body acting like it was?

Dean was rudely awakened by a pair of dirty socks being thrown on his face. He peeled them off his face and hesitantly opened one eye to glare at the towering man boy at the side of his bed. The smell of the socks somehow managed to make his throbbing headache even worse.

"What the hell do you want?" His voice sounded like gravel being run through a coffee grinder.

Sam stood there holding two relatively nice button shirts, virtually identical in color. "Which shirt looks better?"

Dean opened his other eye, trying to get a better look. "Is this a trick question?"

"What?" Sam looked between the shirts and back to Dean. "No, dude. I need your help. You're good with this stuff."

He narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam shook his head. "Never mind. Now help me."

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, willing his headache to go away, "Sam... they are the same color."

Sam looked at the shirts again. "No they aren't!"

"Green... or greener?" He grabbed the dirty socks and threw them back at Sam, pulling his blanket up over his head, "Why would you wake me up for this?"

Sam's face fell into a pout. "Dammit, Dean. You're no help."

"Why are you freakin' out, anyway?" he asked from underneath the blanket.

"Jess proved you wrong. She actually texted me and wants to meet up and show me around the campus before I start classes." Dean could hear the excitement and nervousness in Sam's voice.

"Wow, I bet she'd _love_ to show you around _her_campus."

Sam rolled his eyes, giving a scoff. "_Dean_..."

He growled. "Whaaat? It's Saturday! Aren't they closed or something? And shouldn't you be sleeping in? And shouldn't you be letting _me_sleep in?"

"You're hopeless. It's not my fault you went trolling for some guys but crawled home empty handed. Don't take this out on me." Sam turned and started heading out of Dean's room. He stopped at the door, "Oh, by the way... A certain someone left a note for you."

Dean pulled the blankets down from his head. "A note?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Yeah... I found it this morning."

He tried to hide his excitement. "Oh... Well, where is it?"

Sam started walking down the hall towards his own bedroom. "Kitchen table."

There were only a few things on Earth that made Dean Winchester move quickly: the promise of sex, homemade pie, free booze, and free food. This was none of those and yet he got out of bed quicker than he has in years, hangover be damned, and hurried down the hall, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. He scanned the table for the note, but he didn't spot it immediately. He just saw his old note, all wrinkled and crinkled.

"Sam!" He shouted up the stairs.

He could hear giant footsteps approaching. "What?" Sam's head appeared at the top of the stairs.

He turned and looked up at Sam, confusion on his face. "Where is it? I don't see it."

"Where's what?"

"The note!"

"It's on that wrinkled piece of paper." Sam pointed towards the table.

He grabbed it, and held it up towards Sam. "Dude. That's _my_handwriting."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Turn it over, genius."

"Oh." He felt like an idiot at this point.

"You're welcome." Sam's head vanished.

There wasn't much written on it.

_Dean,_

_I assure you, you did not offend me. I'm sorry if it appeared that way._

_And please don't trouble yourself. I don't drink._

_Apologies._

It was a response. It was a _disappointing_response, but it was a response. It meant that the neighbor, whatever his name may be, was open to communication somehow. Granted he just got shot down via note, so it was like middle school all over again. It meant he'd just have to try another way.

As he pondered and speculated, Sam came stomping down the stairs. That boy was about as quiet and graceful as a moose. "So, Dean, how do I look?"

Dean was still analyzing the note. "Like a dork."

Sam looked so disappointed. "Oh..."

"Nah, Sammy. You look fine. Don't worry about it." He walked over, and pinched Sam's cheeks and then slapped them in a grand display of his brotherly affection.

Dean turned towards the stairs, hoping to go pass out for a few more hours, hope the headache vanished, and forget the morning ever happened, but Sam stopped him.

"Hey, Dean? Can I ask you a huuuuuge favor?"

He slowly turned and narrowed his eyes. "What is it?" He knew where this was going. Sam never asked for favors... He made demands.

Sam shuffled back and forth on his feet. "I was wondering if I could, uh..."

"...Could what, Sam?"

Sam closed his eyes tight and spit the request out in one breath. "Could I borrow the Impala to impress Jess?"

Dean waited until Sam peeked one eye open before walking over to him. He put an arm around his younger brother's massive shoulders, "Come with me." He walked Sam out the front door, grabbing his keys on the way out.

The pair made their way out onto the porch, the bright sunlight like daggers into Dean's brain. He paused, shielding his eyes, waiting for them to adapt to this bright setting, fighting back the urge to puke. Once he had everything under control, he continued.

He lead Sam towards the garage, where the Impala rested in the driveway. "You see her, Sam?"

Sam gulped, "Yeah."

"Isn't she a beaut?"

He sounded slightly uneasy, "Yeah..."

"And it would be a shame if _anything_were to happen to her, wouldn't it?"

He nodded in affirmation. "Absolutely."

"Even the tiniest scratch."

He nodded again. "Yeah..."

"And you realize that I have eyes like a hawk and would immediately notice if even the slightest, tiniest, most minuscule thing was off, right?"

"Yes..."

"And you realize that I know where you sleep?"

"Yes..."

"And you realize that I have a pair of hedge clippers in my garage, right?"

"Yes..."

"Well then." He tossed Sam the keys. "Have fun. Be back before dark. Wrap it before you tap it."

"_Dean_!"

"And remember, I will castrate you in your sleep if you hurt my baby."

The Impala roared to life and Sam cautiously backed it out of the driveway. Dean glared the entire time, making sure Sam knew he was serious. When he finally made it to the road, Sam spun out the tires as he took off down the road. Dean just about had a coronary. That's when he noticed the curtains next door flutter.

He sighed out loud to no one in particular and thought back to the note. He couldn't help but feel sorry for the guy. He obviously didn't have a sense of humor... or people skills; and there was something almost depressing about his response.

Dean stared at the window, waiting for the man to peek out again. It didn't take long. When he saw the man's face, he just smiled and waved before the man quickly vanished in a flash of curtains. Dean wished he knew what he could do to talk to the guy, but he figured he'd leave it be... for now.

Since Sam took his car and he had nowhere to go and nothing else to do, Dean went about the rest of the day with a new goal in mind. Everything inside the garage was set up to his liking, but he had no cars to work on and no new clients since the move. He'd eventually have to call Uncle Bobby and hopefully get some referrals, but until then, he would repaint the garage's trim. His garage was perfect for his job, yes, but it had the most god awful pink trim he'd ever seen. The house didn't have it, just his manly garage, and he couldn't stand for that.

He went inside the house to throw on some grubby clothes and came back outside ready to work. He grabbed the needed supplies from the garage; a manly gray paint, several brushes, a paint tray, and a ladder. Working outside also gave him the benefit of working on his tan... and keeping an eye on the neighbor's house. He was bound and determined to get that man to communicate somehow; or at least find out his name. The note barely gave him anything to go off of.

He started stripping off the flaking layers of pink and noticed the face once more... and again after a coat of primer, and again after the first coat of paint. It was almost like clockwork. He kind of liked having an audience.

He stood in the driveway, sweat dripping from every pore, checking over his work. He determined that it would take another coat to call it good, but before diving into it, he decided to take a break. He peeled off his sweat-soaked shirt and headed inside to grab a beer. He came back out sipping his beer and tried to enjoy the sunlight.

In his musings, he came up with another idea. Since the neighbor was obviously checking on him every so often, he could try and anticipate him and wait just outside his window; that way he could get a good look at him and try to talk to him semi-face-to-face. Sure, it was a little creepy, but so was constantly watching your neighbor paint his garage.

He finished off his beer, sat the empty bottle next to the paint supplies, and walked over to the neighboring house. He positioned himself outside of the window, which was nice and shady, and he waited.

Soon enough, the face appeared again, but he clearly wasn't expecting to see Dean right there. His eyes widened in fear and he froze in place. Dean stood there smiling, taking in the sight of the man's face.

"Nice to see you... finally."

Dean could hear some muttering from behind the window and then the face vanished behind the curtain.

"You know I can see you when you're watching me, right? You're not being sneaky."

He saw the man's shadow move away from the curtain, disappearing into the distance. He was beginning to realize that if he wanted to communicate with this man, he'd have to leave another note. It really was like middle school all over again.

Grumbling, he headed back for his garage. There was another coat of paint to apply and he had to hurry before the sun set. The whole time he spent painting, though, he kept thinking about his potential reply. He didn't want to have this back and forth with notes, he just wanted to meet the guy... and his piercing blue eyes... and confused puppy look... With any luck, he'd have that mysterious neighbor man talking in no time, he just needed to use a little of his Winchester Charm no matter how hard it was to do via writing.

Having finished the final coat of paint, he packed up the supplies and carried the wet brushes inside to wash. He filled the sink with soapy water and plopped them in and decided he should probably wash the layer of grime off himself, so he headed up to take a relaxing shower.

Later that evening, right around dinner time of course, Sam walked into the house with a smile on his face. He looked at Dean and then noticed that he was surrounded by a growing pile of balled up paper.

"What's going on?"

"Just trying to write a note."

"You know, if you used a pencil, you would save paper."

"Shut up."

"Wait, are you writing to the mysterious neighbor again?"

"No, Sam. It's my letter to Santa Claus."

"I don't think that would do you any good. You haven't been a good boy in a very long time; I'm pretty sure Santa blacklisted you when you were 5. And I'm pretty sure not even you could threaten presents out of Santa."

"I could take him. Easy."

"I don't know, Dean... He has all those elf minions."

"Yeah, but I'm taller than them. That's gotta give me some kind of advantage."

"Not once they start going for your ankles. You'd be helpless against a swarm of angry midgets."

"Sam..."

"So it _is_a letter to the neighbor." Sam crossed to his side, looking over his shoudler.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Sherlock."

"What's your fascination with the guy, anyway? He obviously wants nothing to do with us."

"I don't have a fascination. I'm just being friendly."

"Uh-huh... Right. So my little outing with Jess went well, thanks for asking."

"Did you get lucky?"

"In a sense. We decided to go out for dinner one day soon, so that's something. And I also found out some things about that mysterious neighbor of ours."

"Yeah?" He straightened up. "Like what? Did you find out what that big fight was about?"

"Well, he was in college with Jess for a while. They apparently dated for a bit, but then something happened. She wouldn't say what, or even his name... But she usually goes over there once a week and drops off groceries for him... But not anymore, I guess."

"What, that's it? You need to get more info than that."

"I didn't want to pry. I only got that much because she needed to talk to someone about it and he was her go-to guy. I guess she feels horrible about the whole ordeal."

"But you didn't ask what the fight was about?"

"No, Dean, I did not. I was a little distracted by, you know, actually being with her. Why don't you ask her yourself?"

He slumped, defeated. "I... don't think she likes me too much."

"That's not my fault. I guess the Dean Winchester Charm didn't work on her."

"Then you'll have to use the Sam Winchester Charm. Just pout at her with those puppy dog eyes until she tells you everything."

Sam sighed and headed towards the stairs, "Finish your note."

He grumbled at Sam, and tried to focus on his note, willing it to write itself. After six or seven more drafts, he produced a note he was semi-proud of. He figured he better deliver it before he changed his mind and scraped another revision.

He set out late in the evening to deliver the note. He climbed the steps of the porch and approached the door. There were no lights on that he could see, so he didn't bother knocking or anything, he knew it wouldn't help. So he folded the paper up, jammed it under the door once again, and left the porch. The man would hopefully respond with at least his name this time.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks for all the feedback. Reviews are greatly appreciated!**

* * *

Cas hadn't been sleeping well, not since Dean dropped off another note. He was so certain his last note would have been the de facto note that pushed Dean away and given him the answers he sought out; but no. Cas has been reading and rereading the note since Sunday morning; it was now Wednesday and he was no closer to coming up with a plan of action or a response.

_Dear Mysterious Neighbor Who Really Should Tell Me His Name,_

_I feel like I messed up again. I didn't mean to scare you yet another time. You can't say you weren't scared this time, I saw you and you looked terrified._

_So, once again, I'm sorry. Sorry for being so scary, I guess._

_Also, you said you don't drink and that's fine... But you have to eat. You are human, after all. Let me take you out for a burger or something to make up for everything. I insist._

_I'm not an ax murderer or anything like that, I promise,_  
_Dean Winchester_

_P.S. My number, if you want, is 616-795-9907. You can call, or text, or whatever you find easiest. Makes it a bit easier than writing these little notes._

Why would Dean leave his phone number? Cas couldn't figure it out. Dean must have wanted him to text his reply instead. He was obviously growing tired of Cas' notes... But he was the one who wrote a note in the first place.

And why was Dean so eager to take Cas out? What did Dean want to make up for? He didn't do anything wrong; it was Cas who messed everything up: he was always interrupting Dean and ruining his peaceful moments. Cas had always really wanted to apologize to him, but he could never mutter those words... Or any, for that matter.

Still, Cas had a strong desire to reply to the note, to answer Dean's questions, but at the same time, he didn't want to bother him anymore... But Dean wanted to know his name, so what's the harm of telling him his name? And texting _is_a lot easier than writing notes and delivering them by nightfall and running the risk of running into him and bothering him some more.

Cas put the note down on the dining room table and walked into his bedroom to grab his phone. He was going to text him his name and leave it at that.

He composed a new message, typed in Dean's number, and pressed send, hoping to end it and put himself out of his misery.

_Cas._There. That wasn't so hard. A huge weight lifted off his shoulders and he had no idea what caused it in the first place. He put the phone down and headed into the kitchen to grab himself a drink.

Opening his refrigerator, Cas frowned at the surprising lack of pretty much everything. He was running low, but it normally wasn't an issue as Jess would deliver a week's worth of groceries every Thursday. Well, the week was almost up, and Cas was almost out of food.

He pulled out the remaining carton of orange juice and swished the container around a bit. There was about a glass' worth left. He poured himself a cup when he heard his phone chime from the table.

He headed back over, hoping Jess had finally responded. Sure, it was too late to get his card back now as he'd missed the tuition due date, but if she could do a grocery run for him one last time, he'd be grateful.

But it wasn't from Jess. It was from the newly saved number. _Dean_.

_Wat?_Cas frowned at the "text speak"; Dean's writing was apparently unreadable, be it by hand or by text. It was obvious Dean knew how to spell and that he had a grasp of grammar, so why did he text like a teenager? And what was he confused about? Didn't he understand Cas' message?

Sighing, Cas quickly keyed in a reply.

_My name. It's Cas._

That should make it fairly clear, even for someone like Dean.

Cas sipped on his orange juice, looking at his phone, not sure why he was waiting for a response. The goal was one message and be done, yet here he was eagerly awaiting some kind of response.

Sure enough, the phone chimed again, and he had a new message waiting for him.

_Nice 2 mt u. Bobby tld me u needed sum wrk dun?_

_What?_

_Ur VW Van?_

What did a van have anything to do with Dean's note? _I think I might have the wrong number._

_W8 hwd u get ths #?_

_You gave it to me. This is Dean, right?_

_Yah. Who is this?_

_Your mysterious neighbor._

_O srry abt tht. I thght u wr sum1 els._

_I'm sorry. Maybe I should text you later if you're expecting someone else._

_No no. Ur gud. Im jst srprisd u txtd me. I thght u ddnt gt my note or sumthn._

_I should go. I'm sorry to have bothered you._

_W8 did I do sumthn wrng agn?_

Cas didn't reply. He had to stop before things got out of hand. Cas didn't know what it was about Dean, but Dean really got to him. The last time he felt anything like that was... Was Michael. And Andy before that.

Cas felt his throat tighten at the thought of another Michael or Andy. He couldn't explain how or why, but he knew God was punishing him for those special friendships. When he was 13 and started getting close to Andy, his parents got a divorce; his mother walking out and his dad growing hateful and bitter. And then his dad died because of his desire for a closer friendship with Michael. Cas couldn't risk any more loss; there was no one left to take but Jess.

He pushed the thoughts from his mind. He allowed himself to get in those situations. His dad would often call him weak minded; and he truly was. Maybe he had deserved all the bad things that happened to him.

He was tempted to text Jess again for moral support or something, but he knew there'd be no response. He was on his own, but it was for the best. He just wish he had a way to get food.

The next afternoon, Cas was surprised by the sound of footsteps climbing his porch. He was used to the roar of the neighbor's car, but he wasn't used to the two sounds being so close together. That meant only one thing; the neighbor boy was up to something again. Cas tried to take a deep breath in preparation for what he knew was going to happen next.

There was a knock at the door, just as expected. Cas walked over to the door, not wanting to open it, but was curious what Dean wanted this time around. He peeked out the window nearest the door and saw Dean standing there with arms full of groceries.

There was another knock at the door, but Cas was conflicted. There was no way Dean knew he needed food, so it meant that Jess must have asked him. Which meant that Dean would have had to go out of his way in order to get the food for Cas, which meant Cas was once again bothering him.

He peeked out the window again, trying to decide what to do.

"_Hey, Cas, I know you're in there. Jess wanted me to drop this stuff off. I have your card, too."_

Dean knew Cas was there. He must have saw him peeking again. And it confirmed his fear that Jess had made Dean go shopping for him. Cas felt his throat tighten. He wanted to open the door and take the food and apologize, but his body wouldn't let him move.

"_Come on, Cas. I need to return your library books, too. And that movie."_

He took a deep breath and forced out a response. "Just leave it by the door."

"_No way. If you want it, you have to open up."_

Cas took another deep breath, hoping Dean would understand. "Just leave them."

"_Cas, I can stand out here all day, I've got nothing else to do and I think you know that."_

Cas was having a hard time swallowing. He ran the risk of Dean wasting his whole day outside on his porch all because he couldn't open the door. He wanted to run back into his bedroom, hide in his sanctuary of blankets, but his body kept him at the door.

"_Look, you can either open the door and grab the food or you can starve. I know you're almost out of food, Jess told me."_

He forced himself to swallow. "Please, just leave it?"

"_Listen, Cas. If you don't open the door right now, I'm taking all your food over to my house and you'll have to pick it up there. And we both know that's never going to happen, so just open the door."_

Cas had to take action. He couldn't make Dean waste anymore time like that. He had to take the food, smile, and thank him... like a normal person would do.

He unlocked his door and slowly opened it a crack. He peeked out to see Dean smiling at him. He opened the door some more and stepped out just enough so he could get a good grip of the bags. He reached for them, grabbed tight, and pulled them inside as quick as he could. He closed the door with his hip and froze, waiting for his heart to stop racing.

"_I still have your card, you know... And I need those books from you. And that movie."_

Dean wasn't going to get them, no matter how badly Cas wanted them returned. Cas had pushed his luck by opening the door, he didn't want to risk anything else. He carried the groceries to the kitchen counter when he was certain he heard Dean leave the porch.

He started unloading the new supply of food, but couldn't help but miss Jess and her shopping talents. Dean must not have been a label reader, because most of the food was either fat free or off-brand or just plain wrong. But Cas wouldn't complain; Dean had bought it for him and brought it to him, and that's all that mattered.

* * *

The house was finally unpacked, Dean's garage was set up to his liking, and the trim had a fresh coat of paint. The only thing left to do was to actually find customers; he needed the cash, and he needed stuff to do. Sam was gone all day with classes... and all night with Jess. This left Dean with a lot of free time and he honestly had no idea what to do with himself.

His mind kept drifting back to the neighbor. It was strange that he hadn't heard from him in a few days, especially since he was so quick in his responses before. Maybe Dean had crossed some kind of line that he didn't know about?

He was tempted to go over there and leave another note, but he hadn't even seen the eyes peeking out at him. The eyes that had watched him so carefully before. Maybe something was wrong with him... But if he didn't open the door before, he wasn't going to this time around, even if he _was_dying.

Dean's pocket started vibrating. His phone had been practically silent since he moved, so he was relieved to find it did, in fact, function. He checked the display and groaned loudly. It was Bobby. He had forgotten to call him since the move.

"Hello?"

"Are yer fingers broken, boy? You couldn't pick up yer damned phone and call this poor old man and tell him yer alive?"

He sighed. "Hi Bobby."

"What's yer excuse this time? It's been forever!"

"I forgot. Honestly."

"How could you forget me? It's not like I raised you or anything, ya' idjit."

"Sorry. I'll buy you a beer or something."

"Deal. So how are things? Get settled in?"

"Yeah. I think I'm done unpacking now. Sam's started his classes on Monday. And he already found himself a girl, can you believe it?"

"_Sam?_ As in _our _Sam?"

"Yeah."

"Boy, they sure do grow up quick, don't they? It feels like just the other day, he thought girls gave him cooties."

"Tell me about it. Between her and his classes, I never see him anymore." He frowned.

"So you've been staying out of trouble?"

"There's no trouble to get into."

"Sounds like you could use some work."

"Tell me about it. Wait, why? Are you holding out on me?"

"Maybe. A man in your area called me a few days ago asking about a restoration job. Nothing fancy, just some exterior restoration."

"And you can't do it?"

"Yer sure ungrateful, you know that? I'm trying to help you out, ya' idjit. It's a job."

"Okay, okay. What is it?"

"A '67 Volkswagen Type 2."

"Wait... You mean a hippie van?"

"Yep, that's the one. Interior is good to go; he just needs some panels cleaned up and painted."

"So no restomod?"

"Nope. A classic restoration."

"Shouldn't be too hard."

"Want me to tell him to swing by, or do you think you can make a house call? I think he mentioned something about paying upfront in cash."

"I think I can head over there. Just depends when, Sam's been borrowing my baby a lot lately. Go ahead and give him my number and have him get in touch with me whenever he can."

"Sounds good. I'll give 'im a call now."

"Cool. Thanks Bobby."

"And don't forget to call me sometimes. I worry 'bout you boys, ya know."

"I'll have Sam call you tonight... if he ever comes home. How's that?"

"You'd best do that."

"Bye Bobby."

"Bye Dean. Behave. And don't roll yer eyes at me, boy."

Dean flipped the phone closed, effectively ending the call. He wondered how Bobby always knew when he was rolling his eyes at him.

Dean sighed and shoved the phone back into his pocket, then decided to take stock of his garage; if he was going to be doing a restoration job, he needed to make sure he had all the needed paint supplies. Granted he didn't know what colors he'd need yet, but he could at least make sure he had the reducers and clear coats covered. He checked his stock of sandpaper and steel wool as well. Everything seemed to be good to go. Now all he needed was the actual job.

He wondered how long it would take for the guy to contact him. Considering it was up to Bobby, it could take anywhere from an hour to a year. He regretted not taking the would-be customer's name and number, but he'd have to suck it up and wait. Not like he had anything better to do...

While he was still standing in his garage, his phone chirped in his pocket. It was a foreign sound to him, especially when he set the phone to vibrate. He pulled it out to investigate, hoping the battery wasn't dying since he just charged the damn thing. The display had a strange symbol on it... A little envelope. He flipped the phone open, and it indicated he had 1 New Message. And it was from an unknown number.

Dean was surprised how quickly he received the text; he _just_got off the phone with Bobby. That man must work miracles. Dean opened the message to be greeted with a single word.

_Cas._

Dean stared at the message on the screen trying to figure out what "Cas" meant. Was it a noun? A code for something? He quickly texted back.

_Wat?_

_My name. It's Cas._

_Nice 2 mt u. Bobby tld me u needed sum wrk dun?_

_What?_

_Ur VW Van?_

_I think I might have the wrong number._

_W8 hwd u get ths #?_

_You gave it to me. This is Dean, right?_

_Yah. Who is this?_

_Your mysterious neighbor._

_O srry abt tht. I thght u wr sum1 els._

_I'm sorry. Maybe I should text you later if you're expecting someone else._

_No no. Ur gud. Im jst srprisd u txtd me. I thght u ddnt gt my note or sumthn._

_I should go. I'm sorry to have bothered you._

_W8 did I do sumthn wrng agn?_

Dean stared at the tiny screen, hoping for a response; some sort of insight for why the neighbor was acting the way he was, but no response came. He didn't let it get to him, though. He shoved the phone back into his pocket and headed inside the house. He wasn't going to psychoanalyze the neighbor based on text messages, or lack thereof.

He must have fallen asleep on the couch, because he was soon woken up by a loud voice. "Dean, you home?"

He groaned loudly from the couch.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Another voice chimed in from the doorway. "Hey Dean."

Dean sat up, peeking over the back of the couch to see who it was.

"Oh, Jess... Long time no see." He rolled off the couch and met them by the door. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I was wondering if we could talk."

He smiled. "Uh-oh... What did I do this time?"

Sam chimed in. "I'll leave you two at it. I'll be in my room if you need me."

"Wait, don't leave me with her."

Sam smiled. "You'll be fine. She doesn't bite... unless you ask her to."

He looked at his little brother in disgust. "Things I didn't need to know, Sam."

Sam walked up the stairs to his room, leaving him and Jess alone in the living room.

"So, Sam and I were talking..."

He narrowed his eyes. "Yeah? What about?"

"Well... You remember back to the day you moved in, when we met? I was dropping off groceries for your neighbor?"

He motioned next door, "Cas? Yeah."

She looked surprised. "Oh, you know his name?"

"Yeah, he told me it."

She relaxed a little. "Well, that makes this a little easier then. I need you to do me a huge favor."

He didn't like where this was heading. "Like what?"

"I was wondering if you could do some shopping for him and drop the stuff off... And give him back his credit card."

He couldn't believe it. "Why are you asking _me_?"

"Well, your brother said that you've been trying to get to know him or something? And him and I aren't exactly on speaking terms right now... But I don't want him to starve, and I know he's running out of food because I'm the only one that ever goes shopping for him..." She frowned.

"Look, I tried, but I'm pretty sure he's scared of me."

"You said he talked to you," she said hopefully.

"Yeah, he wrote me a few notes and texted me today... But if I ever try to talk to him face to face, it doesn't end well."

She frowned. "He just takes a while to warm up to new people. If you bring him food, he'll love you forever."

Dean pondered for a moment. "So I just need to buy food and drop it off?"

"Yeah. I usually get him the same stuff every week, so I can just write it all down. And I have his credit card, so the cost is covered."

He shook his head. "Do I want to know why you won't do this anymore?"

"A lot of reasons... But I'm just taking a Cas break for now. I'll take over again when I can."

He considered the risks involved. Though it's not like he had work to do. "I guess I can do it... I've got nothing better to do. And you're sure he won't mind?"

She was beaming. "No way. He'll be so happy!"

He couldn't hold his sarcasm back. "Right..."

"Well, that's all I needed. I'll go write the list and I'll leave you to your napping. Try and get everything and drop it off in the early afternoon, that's when he usually expects it."

He took the mental notes. "Okay..."

"Oh, and he has some library books and a movie that you need to return for him. I completely forgot. It's probably driving him nuts that he still has them. So just ask him for them and he should hand 'em over without a problem."

He flinched. "Why do I feel like I'm going to regret this?"

"Nah, you'll be fine."

The next day, Dean set out around noon to hit up the local Wal-Mart once again. Despite how much he hated being there, he was able to suck it up because he was helping his neighbor. It would hopefully pay off in the end.

He perused Jess' handwritten list and made a quick trip out of it since she was kind enough to sort the items by aisle number; it certainly made Dean's life a lot easier. He pushed the full cart up to the check out lanes and unloaded it. When it came time to pay, he got a little nervous since it wasn't his card and his name wasn't on the account, but the cashier didn't seem to care. He loaded up the Impala and got out of there as quickly as he could.

Dean pulled into his driveway, climbed out, opened his trunk, managed to somehow grab all the bags, and sighed. He looked over at Cas' house and hoped that he wouldn't have any issues. Jess made it sound like it would be easy, but Dean had a sneaking suspicion that Cas would make things difficult.

He climbed onto the porch and shuffled the bags around to free up a hand. He knocked a few times and waited. As expected, there was no answer, but Dean noticed the curtains move by the front window.

"Hey, Cas, I know you're in there. Jess wanted me to drop this stuff off. I have your card, too."

There was no response, but Dean knew he was listening.

"Come on, Cas. I need to return your library books, too. And that movie."

"_Just leave it by the door."_

Dean was surprised. This was the first time he's ever heard Cas speak, let alone speak to him directly.

"No way. If you want it, you have to open up."

"_Just leave them."_

"Cas, I can stand out here all day, I've got nothing else to do and I think you know that."

There was no response. Dean waited some more, anxiously tapping his foot against the porch. When it was clear Cas wasn't going to open the door, he became slightly more annoyed.

"Look, you can either open the door and grab the food or you can starve. I know you're almost out of food, Jess told me."

"_Please, just leave it?"_

Cas was clearly a stubborn person, but he obviously hadn't met the likes of Dean Winchester before. Dean waited outside the door and began to hum Led Zeppelin's _Ramble On_, wondering how long and what it would take for Cas to cave.

"Listen, Cas. If you don't open the door right now, I'm taking all your food over to my house and you'll have to pick it up there. And we both know that's never going to happen, so just open the door."

He heard a slight click and saw the door slowly open. He smiled when he saw the figure step out from the shadows. He'd only seen glimpses of Cas up until now, but nothing would have prepared him for seeing Cas in entirety. His hair was shaggy and messy, he probably hadn't shaved in a week, and he was in a tight t-shirt and baggy pajama bottoms.

The man stepped towards him timidly and grabbed the bags out of Dean's hands, vanishing back inside as quickly as he had appeared. The door closed again and Cas was gone... and Dean was left on the porch feeling nothing but confusion.

He knocked on the door again. "I still have your card, you know... And I need those books from you. And that movie." But there was no answer. Dean wasn't going to push it anymore. He left the porch and headed back to his house. He did what Jess asked him to do and he got to see Cas face to face, however briefly it was; he was mainly happy because Cas actually spoke to him.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Reviews are greatly appreciated.**

* * *

There was a knock at his door. He wasn't expecting anyone that night, nor did he notice the neighbor outside, so it couldn't have been Dean. He put his book down and hesitantly approached the door. He peeked out the side curtain and noticed a familiar figure on the other side. He quickly opened the door.

"Hey Cas..."

"Jess. Hi." He smiled.

"Were you busy? I hope I'm not interrupting anything." She peeked inside the house.

He rolled his eyes. "You know the answer to that one."

She frowned. "Right."

"Yeah... So what are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?"

He smiled, moving out of the door. "Yeah, of course."

She hesitated. "Actually, I wanted you to meet someone."

His stomach did a backflip. "Oh? Who?"

She turned to the open door and called out, "Sam, you can come in."

Cas watched as the tall man walked in through the front door, closing it behind him. He stood next to Jess with a pleasant smile on his face.

"Hey."

Cas hesitated for a moment; there was a neighbor boy in his house, but he calmed down when he realized that Jess was with him as well, and those fears didn't matter anymore. Jess wanted him to meet this boy and he could do that for her, and he could be a decent host.

"Cas, this is my boyfriend Sam. Sam, this is one of my dearest friends, Cas."

Cas extended his hand. "Hi."

Sam returned the gesture and shook Cas' hand. "I've heard a lot about you. It's nice to actually meet you."

He smiled awkwardly. "Yeah... I, uh... You're my new neighbor."

"Yeah, me and my brother Dean."

Cas frowned at the mention of the name; his throat clenching a little. "I'm familiar."

Sam laughed, "Yeah... He talks about you a lot, actually. He has been ever since we moved in."

Cas didn't respond, instead he walked into his living room and sat on his couch. Jess motioned for Sam to follow him and she took a seat next to him.

"Sam's a student, too." She tried to cut the awkwardness. She knew Cas wasn't the best at small talk.

He smiled over at Sam. "Yeah?"

"Yup. I'm hoping to major in World Literature."

"Sounds fascinating. Are you liking the campus?"

"Yeah, it's beautiful. I love the town, too. Nothing like this back home."

"Where did you move from?"

"We've been just about everywhere. But we ended up staying with my uncle in South Dakota while I was in high school. Dean wasn't too happy about it, but he ended up loving it."

He faltered. There was that name again. "Why's that?"

"Bobby taught him everything he knows about auto restoration. Bobby is one of the best in the country and Dean is making his way up the ranks now."

He glanced towards the windows. "I haven't seen him work since you moved out here..."

"I guess he hit a kind of dry spell. He's all set up, he just needs to get his name out in this area, I guess. He's been pretty bored without work, though. What do you do for a living, Cas?"

Cas hesitated. He didn't know how to answer the question without seeming like a pathetic loser living off his inheritance money. "Well, uh... I-"

Jess cut him off; she must have sensed his hesitation, "He runs an online business. Right, Cas?"

He smiled at her appreciatively. "Sure."

Sam brightened up. "Oh, that's cool!"

He looked around the room, awkwardly. "Yeah. Keeps me super busy and stuff."

Sam stood up suddenly, walking towards him. "Well, it's been great meeting you, Cas, but I should probably head home before Dean burns down the house. He must be wondering where I am since he saw Jess' car pull into the driveway."

He feigned a smile and a wave. "It was nice meeting you, Sam."

Jess stood up, joining his side. "I'm going to stay and visit for a bit, but I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

Sam smiled at her. "Yeah, goodnight Jess."

"Night."

They shared a quick kiss and Sam let himself out. Jess sighed happily and took her place on the couch next to Cas.

"So," she drew out, "long time no see."

He sighed. "Yeah, you could say that."

"Did Dean drop off some groceries?"

"Yes he did." He frowned. "Was that your doing?"

"I couldn't let you starve, Cas. I was freaking out the whole time."

He shook his head. "You could have texted me, you know."

"I've been so busy since classes started... and now with Sam. Even if I wanted to, there's no way I would have been able to bring you food."

He looked towards the floor. "It's okay, I understand..."

She tried to change the subject. "Did Dean get everything on the list?"

"Most of it. I don't think he reads labels, though." He shook his head.

"Did he grab the books and the movie?"

He hesitated, grimacing. "Uh... No. I kind of slammed the door in his face before he had a chance."

"Oh..." She fought back a laugh. "Well, I can take them tonight I guess. What about your credit card?"

"He still has it."

"Didn't you need it?"

"It's too late. It's not as important anymore."

She narrowed her eyes, getting wilder in her body language. "So, what? You just don't like Dean? What's the issue here?"

"No, it's not that..."

"Then what is it, Cas?"

He sighed. "I don't know. He's just different, I guess. I can't even explain it. I just know I can't be around him."

She frowned. "Not even if I was there with you?"

"No. I don't think that would help anything. His brother I'm fine with, but him... There's something about him."

"So, hypothetically..."

He narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"If he were to be shopping for you from now on, you'd be against that?"

"Hypothetically? Yes."

"Can you just give him a chance? He's just doing it as a favor to me, and I really don't want you to starve."

He felt his throat begin to tighten. "Jess, you don't understand."

"I can tell him to not say anything and just drop the stuff off and leave. He won't even need to come inside your house."

He frowned. "Is that really fair to him, then? I don't need a slave."

"I think if you tried to be nicer to him he might be happier about doing it... And, you know, _not_ slamming the door in his face..."

He sighed. "I'll try, I guess... I just don't want to be a bother to him. And I don't want to seem thankless."

She smiled. "Then I suggest you say thanks once in a while, talk a little bit, and maybe even invite him in for a drink or something."

He shook his head. "No promises."

"But you'll try?"

"Yeah... Don't really want to starve."

She patted him on the shoulder. "You'll be fine."

"I hope..."

"Well, let me get those books from you. I've got homework to do, so I should head out." She stood up, signaling the end of their conversation.

"Alright." He grabbed the book from the coffee table and handed it to her.

"And, Cas, you can text me whenever. I might not respond right away like I used to, but I'll always be here for you. You know that, right?"

He smiled. "Of course."

She headed to the door, and he followed behind. "Have a good night, Cas."

"You, too, Jess."

* * *

He flipped endlessly through the channels, not being able to settle on a station. Every show was a rerun. Every box was unpacked. His work station was set up, the garage was freshly painted, the chores were done... He had nothing left to do except sit and wait for a job to fall out of the sky. Bobby had mentioned a potential client, but he still hadn't received a call or even a text. He was beginning to lose hope... or go stir-crazy. He wasn't certain.

Jess' car pulled into his driveway. He was slightly thankful. Sam had been spending every moment with that girl... He couldn't be a big brother anymore. He was going through withdrawals. He glanced at the window, wondering how long it would take them to come inside so he had someone to talk to, but they were still in the car. He considered going outside to meet them, but he realized how desperate that would be. He wasn't that starved for attention... yet. He'd wait.

His pocket started vibrating. He reached in to retrieve his phone, a small part of him hoping Cas was texting him again for some reason, but one glance at the caller ID quickly dashed that hope. _Unknown Caller._

He paused a moment before answering, "Hello?"

"Yeah," the man's voice replied, "is this Dean Winchester?"

He was hoping it wasn't a bill collector. "Yeah?"

"Hey, the name's Michael. Sorry it took so long to call. Bobby gave me your number a while ago, but I haven't gotten around to calling 'til just now."

Finally! "Don't worry about it, man. Bobby said you were looking to get some body work done?"

"Yeah, and I was told you're one of the best."

"Trying to be." Bobby must have really talked him up. "What needs fixing?"

"Just trying to spruce her up, you know? She's got some rust here and there."

"Shouldn't be too much trouble. Some sanding and a coat of paint, and she'll be like brand new again."

"That's the dream. She really means a lot to me."

"I know that feeling, man. My baby was left for me when my dad passed. Can't imagine life without her."

"Oh yeah? Muscle car?"

"'67 Impala."

"Now that's a beautiful car."

"You don't need to tell me that. My baby knows she's amazing."

"Yeah, well, mine is in need of a self-esteem boost, so I'm calling in reinforcements."

"A '67 Volkswagen? Type 2, right?"

"That would be it."

"Think I can swing by and take a look? I'd be able to give you some estimates then."

"Shouldn't be a problem. I'm free this Thursday and Friday afternoon. Think you could make the trip?"

"Thursday should work. Might help if you gave me your address, though." He scribbled down the address that Michael spouted. It sounded like it was right outside of town. "Alright. So Thursday afternoon it is. I'll give you a call before I head out. Sound good?"

"Yeah, perfect. Glad I finally got around to call you. My baby will appreciate it. See you then."

"Bye."

Dean ended the call and quickly saved the number in his phone before he forgot. _Michael Volkswagen._ He'd never worked on a hippie van before, but there was a first for everything. He knew their importance to the American culture and their iconic look, and if it was a restoration, he'd be more than happy to work on it.

The front door opened and Dean spun around to see Sam slink inside. He had obviously been up to something; he had that guilty look on his face that Dean knew all too well.

"Hey, Dean."

"Where have you been?"

"With Jess."

"She pulled into the driveway, like, half an hour ago. Were you making out in her backseat or something? I'm amazed you can even fit in her tiny car, let alone-"

"No. She wanted to say hi to Cas... and she kind of dragged me along with her."

"Wait, what?" His eyes widened. "You were in the neighbor's house?"

"Yeah. He's a nice guy. A little shy."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "... What?"

"Yup."

"I just... I can't believe this."

"Why?"

"I brought the guy food and he slams the door in my face... Yet you waltz over there and he welcomes you into his home?"

"I don't think it's like that, Dean. He didn't look very comfortable with me being in there. I think he did it for Jess."

"So, what, I need Jess to supervise my visit if I ever hope to talk to the neighbor?"

Sam frowned. "If it makes you feel better, he knows who you are and he keeps an eye on you."

"What? No that doesn't make me feel better. He'll watch me, but he won't talk to me? Sammy, this is crazy."

"Why does it bother you so much?"

He started to pace the floor. "I don't know... It just annoys me that he'll talk to you but not me when I've been trying to extend the olive branch."

"But _why?_ Why do you want to talk to him so bad, anyway?"

"Hell if I know. He could be interesting, I guess."

Sam rolled his eyes. "He said he runs an online business... and he owns a lot of books. Doesn't seem all that interesting to me."

"You never know."

Sam paused a moment before smiling. "... You like him, don't you?"

He stopped in his tracks. "What? No. How can I like a guy who won't even talk to me?"

"Because he's playing hard to get and it's driving you nuts!" Sam laughed. "You know you can't have him so it makes you want him even more."

He narrowed his eyes. "Isn't it your bedtime?"

"Dude, I'm 19, I haven't had a bedtime in years. Just admit it and then I'll drop it."

He sighed. "I admit that he could potentially be interesting if he'd ever talk to me. And that's it."

"Whatever, Dean. You can lie all you want, but you can never lie to _me_."

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. He sighed again and went to answer it.

It was Jess. He smiled at her. "Speak of the devil..."

She smiled in return. "Hey, Dean, just the guy I was looking for."

Sam approached from behind them. "Hello to you, too, Jess... I can tell when I'm needed around here."

She looked up at him, shaking her head. "We already said good night, Sam... I'm not even here. Just a figment of your imagination... that happens to be talking to Dean."

He ushered her inside, closing the door behind her. "What did you need?"

"I grabbed the books and movie and stuff from Cas and he asked me to ask you if you could kindly return them to library for him."

He narrowed his eyes. "Really? _Me_? Why do I find that hard to believe?"

"He also asked me if you could maybe pick up some groceries for him on Thursday again? He was so thankful that you did it last time, he just couldn't express it clearly."

He shook his head. "Slamming a door in my face totally screams 'thank you'."

"Yeah, he was just having an off day. He's looking forward to you dropping off groceries again... Really."

He sighed. "The same list?"

She smiled. "Yup! You still have his card, right?"

"Yeah, because he wouldn't let me give it to him."

"Well you can hold onto it for groceries. And fill up your tank if it needs it."

"So if I drop the food off, I won't be greeted by splintering wood?"

"No."

He peaked an eyebrow. "And you're sure?"

She sighed. "Yes, Dean... So can you do it?"

"Yeah, I guess... It's just weird going out of my way for a guy who won't talk to me is all."

She reached out and patted him on the shoulder. "He's your neighbor. It's the neighborly thing to do. _And_ he's your brother's girlfriend's BFF, so, you know... favors and all that."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: This is the final chapter in this little story. Reviews are greatly appreciated. More notes at the bottom.**

* * *

It wasn't getting easier, but Cas was trying to adjust. He'd been so accustomed to Jess' weekly visit and eye for detail for the past three years that it became part of his life - his routine - but now all of that was changing. He just didn't know if it was for good yet. Dean was trying, he knew that, but he couldn't ignore the vice-like feeling in his gut and the war in his brain.

He just had to take a deep breath, ignore all those thoughts, and be thankful for Dean's help. Even if Dean was a sloppy shopper. He wasn't really sure what "pasteurized processed cheese food" was, but apparently Dean thought it was an ideal substitute for American cheese.

An obnoxious roar of an engine gradually enveloped his house. Dean was back. He had been expecting him all day. Jess worked like clockwork, whereas Dean showed up whenever. It didn't help calm his nerves, since he was forced to spend the day on alert, waiting for him to show up.

The engine cut off, so he waited by the door, unlocking it in preparation. When Dean eventually knocked, he opened the door a crack.

Dean stood there with a smile. "Candygram."

His stomach clenched. "Hello Dean."

"Wow, I think that's the first time you've ever said my name."

He frowned. "I guess..."

Dean shifted his weight a bit, "You know, these are pretty heavy..."

He was suddenly aware that he was standing there with arms full of his groceries. "Oh, sorry."

He pushed the door open a little and grabbed the bags from Dean. He mentally kicked himself as he brought the bags inside, nudging the door closed behind him. He dropped the bags on his counter and started putting the groceries away. It wasn't the same without Jess. It was almost lonely.

He heard Dean's voice, a jolt of panic shooting through him. "I need to talk to you about something important."

Dean had pushed the door open and was sticking his head inside. He hurried over the door, causing Dean to retreat. He put his foot be the door to block it from being opened further, and blocked the opening with his body.

"I had to pay for all your food out of my own pocket today."

He narrowed his eyes. "Why? Don't you have my card?"

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, I do... but the lady was kind of a bitch and wouldn't take it since I'm not an authorized user or something like that."

"Oh." He frowned. Figures it wouldn't be that easy. "So, what do I do?"

"Well, I kinda need the cash back... I figured I could drive you to the bank, and you clear up the confusion and add me to your account or something? And then swing by an ATM and get me a refund."

He froze. His mind immediately went into overdrive, and his pulse began to rise. "I can't do that."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "It's the only way if you want me to buy you food again. Unless you have lots of cash laying around."

"No, it's all in the bank..." he said restlessly.

"Then get dressed and I'll take you."

He felt his throat constrict. "... I can't. I can't do it."

"Why not? It'll be fine. I'll drive you. I can even go inside with you if you want."

"Dean..." Why couldn't he understand?

"Cas...?"

"Is this absolutely necessary?"

"You could always call there, but I think you need to show some photo ID. The Wal-Mart lady wasn't very clear on any of that."

He couldn't swallow. "I'm sorry." He started to close the door, but Dean stopped him.

"Look, Cas, I haven't got all day. I've got things to do, so get some shoes on and let's go. I was asked to help, so I'm helping."

He looked into Dean's eyes, unsure. "Just in and out?"

"Yup. Real quick. You'll be home before you know it." Dean smiled.

He let out a long sigh, knowing he was going to regret this decision. "Okay I guess."

"God, you look like you're going to a funeral. Lighten up a little. I don't bite." Dean said with a laugh.

He feigned a smile in return before closing the door. Dean climbed down the steps of the porch, and he went into full-blown panic mode. He hadn't left the house in years... Why was he now? Jess couldn't get him to leave, so what was it about Dean that made his brain scream 'run' and 'stay' at the same time?

He walked into his room, trying to find something halfway decent to wear. He hadn't bought new clothes since college, and he hadn't had a need to dress up in just as long. He also knew Dean was outside waiting, so he didn't have the luxury to be picky. The room was spinning, but he fought through it, grabbing a nice pair of dark denim jeans and a gray button up shirt.

He threw the clothes on and ran to his bathroom to make sure his hair was okay. He was starting to second guess this whole thing - he couldn't even look towards his toilet, else he knew he'd puke. Yet he was going to go through with it anyway. He could rationalize that if he did just this one thing, then he wouldn't have to worry about it becoming an issue again later. He took a deep breath and forced himself to swallow.

He stepped lightly down his porch, senses on high alert. Dean was waiting in the monster he called a car, and started the engine as soon as he made it off the porch. He made his way over to the passenger side as quickly as possible. The last thing he needed now was for someone else to approach and talk to them. The door was locked. Dean slid over towards the door and opened it for him with a smile on his face.

He hesitated a moment before climbing in, shutting the deceptively heavy door with a thud. He swallowed hard, feeling Dean's eyes on him.

"You ready?" Dean asked with a smile.

He buckled his seat belt. "Sure."

"You might need to show me where your bank is..."

"It's near the library, I think," he said quietly.

"Okay, we'll find it."

Dean reversed out of the driveway and sped off towards the library. Cas was regretting his decision. He stared out the window, hoping to distract his brain and calm the frenzy inside his stomach. Dean was silent and it made things worse. He decided to hum to himself to break the silence and attempt to calm himself.

He tried to convince his brain he was being irrational, that Dean was completely safe and that he was helping. Willingly helping. And that he wasn't being a burden on him. But his brain wouldn't listen to him. Every time they stopped at a stop sign, his brain pondered ways it could jump from the car, and how long it would take for him to run home.

Dean broke his trance. "Do you want me to turn the radio on?"

"No."

"Oh... Okay then."

He had to stop looking out the window. He didn't like the way his brain was thinking... He looked down at the floorboards instead, humming to himself some more. This way, he'd have no idea how far they were from his room, and he'd have no chance to ponder his escape.

"Hey, we're here."

"Oh." He was surprised they were there. And that he made it in one piece.

"You can run in quick."

He froze. He hadn't even thought this far ahead. "I guess."

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"...Yeah." As much as he hated to admit it, he really wanted Dean there with him.

"Alright. Let's go."

Dean climbed out of the car, but Cas couldn't move. His legs wouldn't cooperate, no matter how much he willed them to. Just this once. There was a tap on the window next to his face. Dean was standing there, looking down at him. He met Dean's eyes, but quickly looked away. He was wasting Dean's time. He slowly opened the door and crawled out. He didn't look around, he couldn't. He walked towards the bank, keeping his eyes on the ground. Dean held the door open for him, but he couldn't bring himself to make eye contact or even thank him. He just walked inside.

There were a lot of people inside. And there was a line. Of course. Dean joined the line without hesitation, and Cas quickly joined him, standing next to him, trying to hide as much as possible. He felt like every eye in the bank was on him. Every whisper was about him. He felt the space slowly closing in on him. He focused on the floor tiles, trying to drown out the rest of the scene.

"Hey, are you okay?"

He was scared to open his mouth. "Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." He couldn't look at him.

"Want some water or something? I think there's a water cooler by the bathrooms."

"No."

"Okay then."

Every time Dean moved forward, he followed close by. He didn't want to get in anyone's way. He sensed more people standing behind him, the space getting even smaller. He lost track of the door, only seeing the bathrooms nearby, and the counter up front. He wanted desperately not to be there. But he didn't want to leave Dean.

"Can I help who's next?" A female's voice cut through the crowd.

Dean stepped forward, but Cas couldn't move. He wasn't ready for this. He didn't want to be here. he couldn't be here. He refused to take his eyes off the floor.

An angry voice came from behind him. "Come on, guy, move it."

He throat clenched even more. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't swallow. He couldn't see. The room was starting to spin.

Dean's voice answered back. "Back off, man."

"Some of us are in a hurry."

He couldn't be there. He was in the way. He was causing problems for everyone, especially Dean. He had to get out, but he wasn't near the door. All eyes were on him now.

"Doesn't mean you need to be a dick about it."

"What did you say?"

"You heard me."

His brain said to run. So, for once, he listened. His legs carried him to the nearest door, the bathroom. He ran to a stall and fell to his knees. Glancing at the toilet, he couldn't fight the urge to vomit anymore, his throat was too tight.

* * *

He was pretty sure he'd prefer a root canal over going back to Wal-mart, but if Cas had actually asked him to go, he could possibly find it within himself to grin and bear it one more time... though he had his doubts about that. Jess was likely lying to him in order to get him to do her work for her, but there was always a tiny little chance that she wasn't. He didn't want to disappoint anyone, just in case.

The list was the same as before, so the trip wouldn't take as long as he dreaded; he almost had the shopping down to a routine, which almost worried him. He wasn't in a major hurry this time, but he did have to get home to drop the stuff off with Cas, and then drive down to meet up with Michael and give him an estimate, so there was really no time to waste. He grabbed some microwave dinners for himself and Sammy on the way to the front of the store, placing them on the top of the already full cart.

As he scoured the checkout lanes for an opening, a flash of light caught his attention. A new lane was opening. Maybe he wouldn't hate Wal-mart so much after all. He approached the lane, and unloaded the cart onto the belt, attempting to smile at the cashier. She didn't seem too friendly - a scowl etched into her face, despite the Winchester smile. She didn't do small talk either, apparently.

He suddenly wished he had someone with him to talk to in order to ease the awkward tension and help pass the what felt like hours in line waiting for the woman to finish. She finished his order, and he swiped Cas' card.

"Can I see the card and some ID?"

He wasn't expecting that. "Excuse me?"

"ID. I need to see some ID."

"No one's ever asked me for ID before..."

She just glared at him. "Hey, when the system prompts it, I gotta ask."

"This isn't my card, though..."

"Is it a family member's?"

He looked around. "No, not exactly."

"Are you on the authorized user list?"

"I don't think so."

She narrowed her eyes at him and stuck out her hand. "Can I see the card?"

He didn't want any trouble. Last thing he needed was to be called a thief. "You know what? I'll just pay cash, how's that?"

"As long as it gets paid." She rolled her eyes. "But for future reference, if you're not an authorized user, you can't be using that card. Now, I'm a nice lady and I won't call the credit card company and report a stolen card then get security to detain you until the proper authorities arrive, so I'll just assume a friend let you borrow it. So get that cleared up before it gets you into trouble."

He was momentarily stunned. "Uh... Yeah, I will. Thanks."

She suddenly had a bright smile on her face. "Thank you for shopping at Wal-Mart. Have a nice day."

He hurried out of the store, suddenly grateful to be alive for some reason. He'd have to get all that sorted out with Cas. And he would need Cas to pay him back for the cash he had to cough up to pay for his groceries. Somehow he knew this wasn't going to end well.

He pulled into his driveway and filled his arms with Cas' supplies, then waddled over to Cas' house, up onto the porch, then managed to knock with a free knuckle. The door opened on the first knock this time, and Dean was slightly surprised.

"Candygram."

"Hello Dean."

He smiled. "Wow, I think that's the first time you've ever said my name."

"I guess..."

He shifted the groceries around in his arms. "You know, these are pretty heavy..."

"Oh, sorry."

Cas grabbed the bags from Dean's hands and brought them inside, pushing the door almost closed in the process. Dean waited outside the door until Cas came back so he could explain the situation. He heard the rustling of bags stop, but Cas still hadn't come back, so he pushed the door open a little and poked his head inside.

"I need to talk to you about something important." Cas hurried back to the front door, causing him to pull his head back outside. Cas rested against the crack of the door, his face barely visible to Dean. "I had to pay for all your food out of my own pocket today."

"Why? Don't you have my card?"

"Yeah, I do... but the lady was kind of a bitch and wouldn't take it since I'm not an authorized user or something like that."

"Oh." Cas looked visibly upset. "So, what do I do?"

"Well, I kinda need the cash back... I figured I could drive you to the bank, and you clear up the confusion and add me to your account or something? And then swing by an ATM and get me a refund."

Cas looked away. "I can't do that."

"It's the only way if you want me to buy you food again. Unless you have lots of cash laying around."

"No, it's all in the bank..."

"Then get dressed and I'll take you."

"... I can't. I can't do it."

Was he being difficult on purpose? "Why not? It'll be fine. I'll drive you. I can even go inside with you if you want."

"Dean..."

"Cas...?"

"Is this absolutely necessary?"

"You could always call there, but I think you need to show some photo ID. The Wal-Mart lady wasn't very clear on any of that."

Cas paused, looking down. "I'm sorry."

He sighed. "Look, Cas, I haven't got all day. I've got things to do, so get some shoes on and let's go. I was asked to help, so I'm helping."

"Just in and out?" He sounded scared.

"Yup. Real quick. You'll be home before you know it."

"Okay I guess." Not like Cas had a choice. He would have dragged him out of the house if he had to.

"God, you look like you're going to a funeral. Lighten up a little. I don't bite."

Dean left the porch and headed for the Impala to wait for Cas to get ready. It wasn't very long before he saw Cas timidly exit his house and hurry over to the car. He started the engine and slid over and opened the passenger door for him, smiling as Cas slid inside and shut the door behind him.

"You ready?"

Cas buckled his seat belt. "Sure."

"You might need to show me where your bank is..."

"It's near the library, I think."

"Okay, we'll find it."

Dean threw the car into reverse and backed out of his driveway. He'd been to the library once only days before, so he had a general idea of where he was going. Cas was quiet the entire way, only the occasional sound of humming escaping him. Dean didn't really like silence, but he didn't want to make Cas even more uncomfortable than he already looked.

"Do you want me to turn the radio on?"

"No."

"Oh... Okay then." He must have said something to make Cas upset again.

It was a short drive, and sure enough, the bank was adjacent to the library. Dean found a parking space and put the car into park. He glanced over at Cas who was intently staring at the floor mats.

"Hey, we're here."

"Oh," Cas said flatly.

"You can run in quick."

"I guess." There was a certain hesitation to Cas' voice.

"Do you want me to go with you?"

Cas paused for a moment. "...Yeah."

"Alright." He smiled. "Let's go."

Dean climbed out of the car, but noticed Cas wasn't moving. He walked over to the passenger side and tapped on the window. Cas looked up but quickly looked away. The heavy door slowly opened and he climbed out with his head kept low. Dean followed him towards the entrance of the bank and held the door open for him like a gentleman. Cas didn't look up even once; Dean was surprised he didn't walk into a wall.

The inside of the bank was rather busy for a Thursday afternoon, but he figured a lot of people were getting their paychecks. He joined the back of the line, waiting for Cas to join his side. Cas crept forward slowly, still looking at the floor. Despite Cas keeping his distance, he glued himself to Dean's side. He really wanted to make a comment about the cheesy music playing, or the fake potted plants, or the hot teller chick, but Cas clearly didn't want to talk to him. He looked like he didn't want to talk to anyone, so Dean kept his thoughts to himself.

The line was moving forward and more people joined the line behind them, and Dean couldn't help but notice Cas looking more and more distressed. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah."

He frowned. "You sure?"

"Yeah." Cas replied all too quickly.

He looked around the bank for a chair or a drinking fountain or anything that might help. "Want some water or something? I think there's a water cooler by the bathrooms."

"No."

"Okay then."

Dean decided to just leave him be. They were next in line, so it wouldn't be much longer. He could get this taken care of, drop off Cas, and be done in time to drive out and meet Michael still before it got too dark. He glanced over at Cas and noticed he was visibly even worse than before. He didn't want to worry and didn't want to push it. Cas made his point clear and it was obvious he wasn't in the mood for chit-chat.

"Can I help who's next?"

The teller was ready for them. Dean stepped forward, but Cas remained in place. He looked back at Cas, but Cas was still staring at the floor, looking more uncomfortable than ever. The people behind them in line didn't look too pleased, either.

"Come on, guy, move it."

Dean spun around to locate the source of the offending voice. His eyes locked with a taller man who was glaring at him and Cas. "Back off, man."

"Some of us are in a hurry."

He stepped towards the other man. "Doesn't mean you need to be a dick about it."

"What did you say?"

"You heard me."

He caught some movement from the corner of his eye. He turned in time to see Cas dart off towards the bathrooms.

The man laughed, "Better go catch your boyfriend."

"Hey, screw you, buddy."

Dean chased after Cas into the tiny bathroom after giving the asshole the finger. Cas was in a far stall, on his knees in front of a toilet, puking his guts out from the sound of it.

Dean approached the stall carefully, not wanting to piss Cas off even more.

"You okay, Cas?"

Dean poked his head inside the stall and saw Cas resting his head against his arm on the seat of the toilet, sitting on the floor now. He didn't look too good.

"Cas?"

"No."

Cas turned his head back to the toilet and heaved again. Dean pushed himself into the stall and started to rub Cas' back. It always worked when Sam didn't feel too well. "It'll be okay."

"Don't touch me!" Cas pulled away from him, trying to fit himself into the furthest corner of the stall, as far away as possible.

He held up his hands defensively. "I'm sorry." He was just trying to help.

He watched as Cas pulled his legs up against his chest, wrapped his arms tight around his knees, and started to cry.

"Cas, you gotta tell me what's wrong."

Cas wouldn't respond or even look at Dean.

"Come on. Say something. Please."

There was a long silence, punctuated by an occasional sob and sniffle. Eventually, he heard the timid voice. "I need help."

"I'm here. I can help if you let me. Just tell me what you need."

"I need help. I'm not normal. I'm broken."

Cas started crying harder but Dean couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't risk touching him for fear of setting him off again.

He stood in the opening of the stall and looked down at the crying man. "We'll get you help, I promise."

* * *

**A/N: This fic is complete, however a follow-up story is in the works, so don't fear. However, I don't have an ETA on when it will be finished.**


End file.
